Leap of Faith
by SparklingLetters
Summary: Part I: Back in the EF after 3x11, Regina strikes an unlikely alliance with Robin to help save his son and stop the Wicked Witch. Part II: The Dark Curse strikes and returns them to SB with Zelena still a threat. Canon with a twist. Part III: After the time warp, nothing is the way it used to be, and Regina with a few familiar allies is the only one with the tools to restore order.
1. Part I: Trapped Between the Pages

Regina forced her stiff legs to move, waddling through the fluid black void. The sensation was nothing like a portal; not a swirling vortex of blurred colour swallowing them on one and spitting them out on the other end. She dared not call out to the others, for the mysterious presence threatened to crowd into her mouth and silence her forever.

Had the Dark Curse felt like this? Back then, Regina had awoken amid cool satin and soft cotton sheets, and had never bothered considering how her victims' experience might have differed. Where were they now?

A tentacle wrapped around her ankles with eerie gentleness, not hurting her but an obstruction nonetheless. Struggling feebly, Regina lost her balance and stumbled towards the lazily swirling ground. Instead of hitting the bottom, however, she collided with a mass of arms and hair and ice-cold sweat.

A distant clink of glass resounded with shocking clarity and audacity, magnified by a thundering echo. The ground trembled and began to tilt dangerously. Regina lost their footing and, for one horrible moment, hung upside down in the air. Little by little, the tentacles uncoiled and released their grip on her. There was nothing to halt the fall now. She hurtled through an ocean of thick black substance come to life and down a narrow neck of cracked, ink-washed glass - a giant inkpot spilling its contents onto the once pristine pages of a yellowed, aged book that lied forgotten.

Scorched grass scratched her palms. A sharp rock was cutting painfully into the small of her back. A raven cawed.

Regina didn't need to open her eyes to know where they were. She didn't need Snow White pushing herself up from the ground beside her and breathing, in a voice filled with a bitterness to match Regina's own, the dreadful words Regina had hoped never to hear:

"We're back."

* * *

><p>"We should head for the palace, make our headquarters there. See what state the land's in," Charming maintained.<p>

"It's in disrepair and chaos," Grumpy snorted. "Snow already told us that when she and Emma had come back from the Enchanted Forest, right?"

"So we'll rebuild. Reinstate order," Charming countered, unfazed. "And make plans."

"For what? A new life?" Grumpy glowered. "The previous one had been forced on us, too, but I had warmed up to it, and now someone else comes and casts a curse to take it away? How many times are we supposed to start over?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group.

Charming raised his hands in defense and a call for quiet. "Maybe we don't need to start over." That gained him their full attention. "Maybe we can fight to get our family back. Emma and Henry."

Regina's chest constricted at the sound of Henry's name.

Charming, true to his notions of leadership, had called a council immediately after the first shock had worn off, which for most of them had been soon enough. They were sitting on logs on a small clearing and with Charming's irritating inspiration and Grumpy's permanent grouchiness the discussion was promising to become a heated and lengthy one.

Regina couldn't care less what either of them had to say. In fact, she felt she wouldn't care if Granny were to try to spit and bake her over the fire as part of the dinner the woman had set to collecting herbs and mushrooms for. Never in her entire life had Regina felt so utterly helpless, defeated, and resigned.

Strangely, Snow wasn't participating in the discussion, either. It would normally be her role to sing ceaseless songs of hope until they either believed it or simply went with it, just as long as that stopped her pestilential ranting. This time, however, Snow kept to herself, silent and staring vacantly into space. Regina turned away at the sight of a tear rolling down Snow's face. Despite the hollow pain clawing at her insides, Regina had no tears to cry.

"...if we work together, we might stand a chance."

"Yeah, yeah," Grumpy growled. "Let's take this up after dinner again."

"How can you think about food with a curse on our hands?" one of the dwarfs objected - Regina couldn't be bothered to distinguish between them.

Grumpy's all too practical approach might normally have caused her to bristle but it was Charming's words that made bile rise in her throat. She couldn't endure another Neverland with these people. Not here, not now, not like this - not with Henry gone forever. Regina had no fight left in her, for she had nothing left to fight for.

"I'm going to Rumplestiltskin's castle," she stated matter-of-factly. She had spoken quietly, without raising her voice in the slightest, yet everyone seemed to have heard. Their puzzled looks made no difference to her - not even the hint of anxiety she fancied to have noticed in a pair of eyes, or two. Charming gave her a disapproving look - she had come to know those only too well - and she braced herself for a tirade about how teamwork was the answer to all the world's problems.

"Then I'm going, too," Belle interjected. Neal livened up for a moment, then seemed to have changed his mind and dropped his eyes.

Regina gave Belle a dark look - she was going to ruin everything. At the sight of Belle's anguished but defiant face, though, Regina felt her own features soften somewhat. Belle had lost someone, too, someone she clearly cared deeply for. Her desire to pay his residence a visit was completely understandable. Nevertheless, Regina would have none of it. She didn't care for company, much less that of someone with the kind of history she and Belle shared.

"No," she stated point-blank, stretching to her full height. The dwarfs, with the exception of Grumpy, who merely frowned, backed away. Granny stiffened and rested a hand on her crossbow. Hook watched the scene with vague interest and Charming stepped forward.

For the first time since arriving, Regina fully realised that, as everyone had changed to their former fairytale persona, so she must have, too. The moment she acknowledged this, she became aware of the tightness of her elaborate hairstyle and the weight of her grand gown, and her skin prickled at the presence of an old acquaintance: the Evil Queen, an ally and enemy both. This time it would be the former. Regina snarled - she had intended for it to be malicious and dangerous, hoping to scare them into letting her go without further ado, but much to her frustration she felt the glare had come short. It had been a while, and apparently the pain was getting the best of her. Yet it would have been precisely that pain to feed the flames of her anger, once. Why didn't she feel the fire now?

Charming made another step forward and prepared to speak. Would she have to resort to uglier means to get her way? Could she muster the energy when she felt so incredibly exhausted?

But it was Belle again who raised her voice before anyone else had the chance to.

"Why his castle of all places?" she asked with her chin turned up. Unlike the dwarfs, she was showing no sign of fear, which earned her a mixture of respect and sympathy from Regina. If Belle's sorrow was anything of the overwhelming nature of Regina's own, Belle would not fear for her life anytime soon.

"Because of the magic, of course," Regina retorted without hesitation. "If there's a way to undo this curse - which unless I am mistaken is your wish, too," she shot Charming a challenging look, "Rumplestiltskin's castle is the place to look." The lie had come easily. Perhaps it wasn't even a full-fledged lie; perhaps she might eventually reach for the odd book in Rumple's extensive library in search of some powerful means of reversing the curse. She doubted it, but it was a possibility all the same. At the very least, it made a decent argument.

Not to Charming, apparently. "Regina, I really don't think splitting u-"

"Let her go," Snow cut in, speaking for the first time since stating the obvious at their arrival. Heads turned in surprise, as if everyone had forgotten about her presence. "Let her go - alone."

Now that was a most surprising turn of events, and Snow certainly a most unexpected ally.

"But, Snow..." Charming muttered with a look of worry etched in his face.

That was understandable - Snow would always be the one to stress the crucial importance of being united. Well, clearly she'd had a change of heart. Perhaps Snow wanted to be rid of Regina. Regina wouldn't blame her if that were the case. There'd been enough strife between the two of them to last a dozen lifetimes, and even more so now that Snow had lost part of her family again, might be not directly to Regina's ill-will this time but still in consequence of her past wrongdoings. Regina dismissed a stab of guilt and strove to shut out the part of her that actually felt hurt by the notion of Snow's dismissal - Regina had, after all, given Snow's daughter the greatest gift she could think of: that of a happy ending. No, it was far more than that - it was Regina's own happy ending she had bestowed on Emma. The thought of Emma and Henry was salt in her wound, so she fought to dismiss it.

Either way, Snow's attitude suited Regina, and what did she care about the rest? What did she care about anything anymore?

Snow rose and stood facing her. "Stay for dinner," she said simply. "Then no one will keep you."

* * *

><p>The reasonable thing would be to get a night's sleep and depart at daybreak. Regina would not linger so long.<p>

In the dead of night, when the air was filled with hoots and snoring - the former she attributed to owls, the latter was clearly Grumpy in chorus with, to Regina's slight amusement, none other than Granny - Regina rose, left the improvised bedroll and the food untouched, and stole away into the trees. As long as she had magic she needed no more.

After just a few dozen steps, however, she heard tentative footsteps hurrying behind her. What now? Her blood boiled and cooled again. She just wanted to get away, nothing more. Why was that so hard to understand? Why would they insist upon her staying with them anyway? They could be a team together, without the hated cause of their misery. Regina didn't turn to confront her shadow but pressed on faster, hoping against hope that perhaps whoever it was would get the hint and leave her be.

Next thing she knew she heard a small cry and a thud as something hit the leaf-strewn forest floor. Regina groaned inwardly. Could Snow be any more clumsy? And whatever made her turn back and wait for Snow to get back on her feet and make her way to Regina across the foliage?

"Regina," Snow gasped urgently, brushing dust off her impossibly impractical white garments.

"What?" she snapped. Apparently Snow's promise to not stand in the way of her departure had meant nothing. How typical.

"It'll only be a minute," Snow assured her. "I just want you to know that..." she hesitated. Was Snow enjoying teasing her? "I wanted to tell you that you're welcome to join us when you're done mourn- I mean, studying Rumple's books."

That was unexpected. Regina was certain her face betrayed that much. Snow smiled sadly.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me. Well, it's true. I don't know what rebuilding will eventually come to mean." Snow's shoulders slumped and she just stared ahead for a moment. "I guess we need to start somewhere," she shrugged, "and I figured you'd better know we're counting on you to be a part of it - when you're ready."

So Snow knew. Regina had been wondering if anyone would see past the rational argument she had made, when for some time she had attempted to keep the real reason a secret even from herself. Snow had guessed the depth of her grief and understood that it bore no company, especially not company that Regina found so hard to juggle even at the best of times. The thought of someone reading her so well threw Regina well outside her comfort zone. Snow showed an irritatingly good insight into her at times even after all these years.

Regina surveyed her closely. Snow hadn't been acting her usual cheerleading self. Regina mulled over Snow's words - everything about them suggested uncertainty and a complete lack of enthusiasm. Something stole its way into Regina's heart that she hadn't felt for Snow for ages. Could Snow feel equally beaten as she did? After all, she had lost a child, too.

"Are you?" Regina asked quietly. "Ready?"

A small smile flickered on Snow's face but did not linger. Her eyes bore into Regina's, and although Regina felt an urge to turn away, something made her hold the gaze. Snow swallowed hard and, at long last, shrugged. A moment of silent understanding passed between them, leaving Regina with a shiver and an unusual trace of comfort. Someone understood her, and for a brief, extraordinary moment, it didn't scare her.

"I don't know, Regina," Snow shook her head listlessly. "But I guess we must try our best. There's always hope, right?"

But was there?


	2. Shadows in the Dark

_Thanks to everyone for reading, favouriting, following, and reviewing so far. It turns out you're highly motivating - here comes the next chapter. Happy reading!_

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><p>Years had erased the finer details of what the attire she had used to favour in this world brought with it. The high-heeled boots were unfit to tread the uneven forest floor. So far she had resisted the urge to hitch up the skirt of her dress even at the cost of being pestered by branches and leaves tugging and tearing at her ceaselessly.<p>

Small feats of magic kept her warm, fed and watered. Occasionally she allowed herself a while's rest: her feet ached badly by now and her muscles burned in protest. But sleep never seemed to come.

Soon the lack of voices intruding upon her ears and thoughts and nerves cradled her into a state of uncharacteristic tranquillity. On the other side of solitude she found the luxury of absolute abandon, the freedom to remain encased within her own mind, to lose herself inside the swirl of emotions without any regard for the outer world. There was no need to pay mind to what kind of image she wanted to project, or the consequences should it fail to convince. She could be herself and not question what that meant.

So she let herself be lost, ceasing to battle for control over her emotions or force her brain into rational thought.

Images rushed through her, filling her entire being: bits of memories and fantasies, shreds of emotions, and the rare flash of present reality. A face, a smile, a tiny fist clenched around her finger; a word, a hug, his forehead under her tear-salted lips. A cloud of purple smoke swallowing a retreating yellow bug. Purple, and inky black, and green trees against blue skies. A well, a diamond, a glowing heart. A chance gone to nought. Red for anger and for pain; blue for the tears that wouldn't come; black for the future that need not.

An owl's hoot. A wolf's howl. A crack of dead wood under her feet as it dissolved to dust.

Shimmering in the moonlight, a swift stream crossed her path, humble but not narrow enough to simply step over. Regina blinked, forcing the fog clouding her judgement, her senses, and her heart to subside. The sensation of water trickling through her fingers made her skin erupt in goosebumps. She splashed some of it over her face. Shivering, she surveyed her surroundings. Far away on the horizon, above the tops of the trees, the gloom revealed it would slowly begin to give way to daybreak. Regina had hoped to have reached her destination by then. She shook her head in an effort to shake off the fatigue and the lingering lethargy - she should never have allowed herself so much lenience. Shunning momentarily the contradicting voice that wept with hopelessness, she gathered all the determination she could muster and searched for a way forward. Her fingers tingled in mockery of the obstacle - magic would eradicate the problem in a heartbeat.

Even as her fist unfurled, a twig broke somewhere behind the bushes, and steps sent the leafy ground rustling. Adrenaline surged through her, reminding her that she was still very much alive. Her eyes darted towards the source of the sound. Regina stood firmly, ready for the clash. She wouldn't seek shelter. Perhaps a fight would make her actually feel alive for a moment - not that it mattered much.

Nothing happened. A soft whisper of leaves told the tale of receding steps. Whoever had come so close to discovering her presence in the forest was now moving away from her again. The anticlimactic moment might have left her bitter and disappointed, even angry once. Now she felt nothing.

After a while, without the slightest spur of curiosity but purely for reasons of practicality, Regina followed. Knowledge was power.

What did she need power for anyway anymore? Perhaps it was mere inertia keeping her moving forward.

Not far along, however, the path the mystery shadow had been following ended in a thick wall of forest shrubbery. Regina's senses tingled. Running her hand over the leaves and branches barring her way, bidding her time, her palm came to rest on a peculiar formation of leaves. Upon closer look, it hardly required a forester to recognise the foliage had been tampered with. Had she accidentally discovered a secret hideout?

As she began to cautiously walk around the wall of green, a low murmur of voices hoarse with sleep, the crackle of a rekindled fire, and a rising bustle of early morning activity seemed to confirm her suspicion. Pressing against a moss-covered rock the sparser foliage allowed for a better view, Regina squinted through the leaves.

Men in garments of varying degrees of shabbiness were hard to make out against the backdrop of the forest scene, which she had to admit was cleverly achieved by the predominant usage of green and brown fabrics. A fat sack lay by the fire, leaning against a wooden chest. A balding monk dragged his corpulent body to a cask of ale and poured a generous tankard for himself and his tall, robustly built crony. He offered a jug to anther one of their fellows - a woman, Regina noted with surprise and an involuntary touch of respect, for in this world it had always been hard to break the bounds set to women - but she refused and toasted with a flask of water instead.

The rising bustle meant an increased danger of being discovered. Undoubtedly she would be capable of handling a confrontation but she had no interest in these people. Rumple's castle, on the other hand, would only be a short way away. Regina retreated in a wide arch and resumed in her former direction.

With renewed permission to roam free, her mind returned to the things she had loved and lost. The hidden camp and its inhabitants receded into oblivion.

* * *

><p>The place was bleak and sinister as ever - it was called the Dark Castle for a reason. Sable stonework seemed to swallow what little light the fading stars lent the retreating night. Regina pushed at the massive double doors in expectation of resistance or at the very least the wail of rusty hinges. Neither came. The door yielded to her touch and she slipped into the sombre hall. Cobwebs had crept across the high ceiling, running from corner to corner in criss-crossing patterns; they adorned the ornate chandeliers and the dust-covered furniture. The library was down that corridor flagged by cracked vases of shrivelled roses. Regina turned her back on the gaping mouth of the corridor - it held no charm for her for the moment.<p>

As she strode towards the grand staircase, her boot became entangled in something. Staggering for a moment, she fought to remain on her feet. The wretched thing was a small camisole of some dark material. Or perhaps not - the lack of light was making everything seem black. Regina picked it up and headed upstairs. The echo of her steps resounded off the walls dully; she strove to step with more care. What did she have to be wary of anyway? An echo? The odd bandit in search of abandoned treasures ? No, the sound simply displeased her.

Doors lined the spacious landing: big and small, wood and stone, arched and square. It made no difference. She pushed a random one open, jumping slightly at its sharp creak and chiding herself for the reaction at once. Once in the room, her steps were muffled by the thick cover of dust eaten into the plush carpet. Crossing the length of the chamber, she struggled with the latch to get the window open and chase out the stuffy, stale air and let some of the fresh morning in.

A golden glow was pushing through the steely, low-hanging clouds on the horizon, sprinkling the faraway treetops with fine yellow specks of light. It was the dawn of a new day.

Something in Regina's chest contorted painfully with an uncalled for intensity that momentarily knocked the air out of her. She felt a lump grow in her throat and tried to swallow it back down again but found herself struggling for breath instead. Her eyes burned viciously - but they remained dry.

A new day was beginning, but for her, everything had already come to an end.

How many times could a person start over? How many times could a person be robbed of everything - _everything_ - they held dear? How many times could a person lose their raison d'etre and still find a way to carry on?

The aged duvet-cover caressed and tickled and scratched her cheek. When had she even gotten to the bed? With a dry sob erupting from the very core of her being, she hugged the pillow unwittingly. There was nothing else left for her to hold on to.

Henry had been her everything. No - he still was, and would always be, her everything. And now he was gone forever.

Regina had tried with all her might to give her all into that last act of magic before the curse had swept them away. She had focused all her thought, all her emotion - most of which had been, and still was, pain - on one thing and one thing only, a thing that was contrary to everything she had been working towards leading to casting the Dark Curse and most of her time in Storybrooke. The happy ending she had ached for so much had had to be given up - she had _chosen_ to give it up, wrapped in tears and sputtered syllables. All the happiness she had ever dreamed for herself and him had been her gift to them: Henry and Emma.

She had no regrets. Her son, her little prince, had had to come first. There was no hole in her heart now. But the agony - oh, the agony was eating away at her, even as her ruthless mind shouted accusations at her ailing heart for being selfish in her grief instead of rejoicing over the bright future Henry could look forward to. A better future that meant Regina stepping aside never to have been a part of his life in the first place. Was she such a terrible disaster to be around that the only way to make her son happy had been to completely erase herself from his heart?

Regina clawed at the sheets with trembling fingers, kicked the duvet in helpless frustration, buried her face in the pillow to stifle a cry. And still her eyes remained dry.

_I have not a tear left to cry_.

Eventually, exhaustion had drained the last of her energy, and left her lying limp between the covers. Unthinking. Unfeeling. Barely alive.

It had been two days and three nights since she had left Snow White and the others, and longer yet since she had last slept. Now sleep finally claimed its due, pressing her eyelids shut with persistent weight. She dreamed of times gone by, of tiny grabby fists waving in the air in pursuit of a dark, loose strand of hair.

* * *

><p>The darkness shifted constantly, ebbing and flowing in the wake of her breathing: in and out, in and out<strong>.<strong> Its smooth, slippery arms entrapped her and uncoiled again, and again, the fluid mass ever winding its way around her. Washed out images of moments past flicked in and out of sight, their texture grained and scratched like an old film. A flutter of her eyelashes or the faintest sigh stirred inky ripples just beneath the surface.

A distant peal of thunder reverberated from the massive walls. What little light there was flickered at the gust of icy wind, then went out. All light - except for a pair of bright red eyes floating beneath the ceiling. Regina gasped and jerked back on the bed, shrinking against the bed post. Dread rose within her like a tidal wave, washing all else out of the way without compromise. The creeping fingers of hopeless misery felt all too familiar... Shaking uncontrollably, she blinked - and the spectre was gone.

All that remained was the all-encompassing darkness only vaguely illuminated by the slim silver sickle in the sky. She must have slept through the day.

Regina ran a hand through her hair. Could it have been what she feared it had been? Had it been no more than a dream? She fought to force her heavy breathing into its normal pattern again. It can't have been real; she would be - gone - if it had been. Why would it flee before accomplishing its purpose? No, she was being foolish. She'd had a nightmare, that was all.

But the loud crash of stone against stone seconds later was definitely real.

Regina kicked the sheets off resolutely. Ghosts did not knock pieces of furniture over - men did. Ghosts could be tricky to foil; men, on the other hand, were a different matter. As she moved to the door, her fingers flexed of their own accord - magic was a primeval instinct to her. The unsuspecting enemy downstairs knew not what they had gotten themselves into.

Perhaps she was being reckless. At least she was something now, beyond lost and hurting.

The stone beneath her boots threatened to betray her presence, so she trod carefully, the ensuing delay testing her patience to the point of madness. When she reached the foot of the stairs, her nostrils flared and the back of her neck tingled. They would have been clue enough, these senses of hers, even without the tell-tale evidence of the vase lying at her feet shattered to countless rugged pieces.

Whoever she was coming up against was in the library - or, if they already knew about her, possibly lying in ambush in a dark nook of the long aisle leading there.

Well, their mistake - she was no easy prey.

She no longer took particular care to be inconspicuous. Although her steps were still measured so as not to make more noise than absolutely necessary, she walked on upright, with her head high and with a swing to her hips - she radiated power and self-confidence, which she had learnt often had a debilitating or at the very least demoralising effect on her adversaries.

Perhaps if she had curbed her pride and adopted a more cautious pace, she would have noticed the shape lurking in a left-hand niche before her. This way it was too late - by the time movement registered from the corner of her eye, a dark shape had already detached from the wall and rushed forth towards her. There was no time to raise a magic-tinged hand. In a hopeless instinct, she ducked, and felt something catch against her hair briefly - and move away on dark, leathery, skeletal wings. She inhaled sharply, cursing herself for allowing panic to rob her off common sense. A bat was certainly no reason to lose her cool.

The library door was ajar, as the sliver of yellow light on the floor betrayed. Someone was comfortable enough to have started a fire. Who could possibly feel so at home here? She felt her anger flare - an unsettling emotion but a welcome one all the same, for it was better than the lethargy overcoming her for the past days. And it was something her magic could feed on. She had sought this place out in hopes of finding a place of recourse, room to mourn without witness and perhaps even figure out where to go next. No one would rob her of this sanctuary now.

A stealthy entrance might be the more reasonable option but to her, it was no option at all; she only knew one way of making an entrance.

The door flew open at the touch of her fingertips, her steps echoed off the stone, and her eyes flashed dangerously - and instantly squinted and blinked, blinded momentarily by the intense blaze from the fireplace.

"Make no move," a calm voice spoke from behind her, "and you shall not be harmed."


	3. Cat and Mouse

_Our Queen and our Outlaw in the same chapter for the first time! I love me some sass, and these two have more than enough potential there, so I tried to play around with it - what do you think?_

* * *

><p>The advantage was on his side, clearly. Had she been more circumspect she might have had the moment of surprise in her favour. Then again, it wasn't the first time pride had gotten in the way of reason. Either way, she was far from done with this insolent intruder.<p>

"I do not take orders from squatters and criminals," she spat, though unmoving as yet, bidding her time while her mind worked furiously on figuring out her next move.

"I wonder what gave me away," the man replied with a hint of sarcasm. "And yet you're an intruder yourself. Fancy that."

Surely she had more right to be in Rumplestiltskin's castle than this stranger — although Rumple would probably not miss a chance to sneer at her about that assumption.

"At least I don't go about breaking other people's possessions," she answered. Would the bandit attack if she turned? There wasn't much she could do without knowing his exact position.

"I'd been staying at this castle for months now, unlike you, milady." Milady? His speech wasn't that of a rogue...but looks could be deceiving. If anything, her senses sharpened even more. "The vase was an accident, I thought I'd heard commotion. Would you happen to know something about that by any chance?"

"Not unless you're scared of bats and thunder," she curled her lips mockingly and risked looking over her shoulder. A dark silhouette stood positioned at the wall with a bow drawn and an arrow pointing at her. From what she could gather from the quick glance, the man was tall and well-built. None of that made much difference when magic was involved.

"Since you seem to have such a strong dislike of intruders," the man put extra stress on the last word, "I wonder what business brings you here, then?"

"None of your business, I'm sure." What was he thinking? Who was he to ask such questions? And how had she not noticed his presence upon arrival?

"Are you _her_?" Suddenly his voice had turned icy and hostile - this was no longer an exchange between two lone wanderers accidentally coming together and eyeing one another with sensible suspicion.

Regina's heart sank - if he hadn't realised who she was until then, now that he did recognise her for the loathed Evil Queen her situation was only going to turn for the worse.

"Where is my son, witch?"

The term stung, as much as she had tried to steel herself against such slurs. Then the actual message registered. "I have no idea what you're talking about...bandit."

"You've been kidnapping children," he retorted with disgust and cold fury. "I want my son back."

"I know nothing about your son," she protested without thought. Either someone was framing her, using the Evil Queen's ill repute, or this bandit was mistaking her for someone else.

Her indignation was overcome by some other emotion, though. Something about the way the man had spoken those last words made her heart go out to him - she knew that desperate drive she'd detected behind them all too well. This was no time for such thought, though. What was wrong with her? Why sympathise with this criminal while being held at arrow-point by the very same person?

"And I'm certainly not interested in any other children either," Regina said icily. Only one child...only Henry. But he was gone. Desperately, she strove to shake off the thought - she couldn't afford to be weak now. "But I do have business here, and I do not wish to be disturbed."

"So it seems we have a problem," the bandit said in a low, silky voice. "I have business here as well, do not wish to be disturbed, and since I was here first, I'm sure you will understand when I ask you to leave."

"I'm afraid you'll find me...unwilling to do that." The man was insufferably cheeky. He matched her retort for retort, and so far he'd had the upper hand by sheer physical advantage. It was maddening, and she would not stand for it much longer.

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to apply harsher measures."

"Be my guest," she challenged and whipped around to face him.

The string of the bow tightened, and the arrowhead quailed. Regina was ready, the previous exchange having fired an irritation she would utilise: her fist unfurled and revealed a growing ball of fire sitting on her palm. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. Despite the shock called forth at the sight of flames sprouting from her hand, he was focused and serene even as his fingers released the arrow.

It sped towards her in a straight but, she thought with glee, miscalculated line - it would hit her shoulder rather than heart if she let it. That would never happen, of course. Her arm moved automatically and with perfect ease; the arrow froze mid-air. The archer, too, froze in place for a split second, staring in surprise. Regina snarled and waved the arrow away, then immediately moved to attack - the man needed to be thwarted. Strangely, she realised she felt little anger at this point. The wretched man had picked the wrong place at the wrong time, showed a deal of cheek, but she felt more annoyance than anger.

Building up its power briefly, Regina aimed and sent a spell at him. The moment, however, had given him time to recover. Just as the rush of purple was unleashed, he ducked and rolled into cover behind a bookshelf. The magical collision sent splinters of wood and yellowed pages flying, and covered the room in a cloud of dust.

The dust settled. Nothing moved.

Was he dead? The spell would only have knocked him out but the fool had decided to seek cover, possibly meeting his end in consequence. Even so, the little magic she had performed seemed to have required quite a bit of her strength: she felt dizzy and somewhat weak in the knees; she would do better to rest soon. The question was, would the thief be at eternal rest?

A cough soon answered that for her. The pile of rubble moved, sending up another cloud of dust.

"Who are you?" came his muffled voice from behind.

Regina bristled.

"I am the Queen."

The readiness of her response caught her unawares. It had been a while since she really thought about herself as the Queen. Did she now? Was it the land? The curse? The outfit? It didn't matter anyway. The Queen was probably the handiest weapon to handle this situation. Any scruples about reconnecting with this part of her were disconcerting at best. She was the Queen, after all, wasn't she?

There was a moment's silence before she heard him again.

"The _Evil_ Queen? Impossible. She hasn't been seen in this realm since the Dark Curse."

Oh yes, the warm welcome she had been expecting - or would have expected, if she had had given it a thought at all.

"And yet, here I am now," she retorted, and was horrified to hear a note of misery in her own voice. If he had been attentive, if he noticed her waver, it would give him a weapon. She needed to get a grip. She needed the Queen now.

"'Your Majesty' is what you're looking for," she enforced in hopes this would help her regain her footing.

There was a long pause. "Not until now, it wasn't... But perhaps now it is."

"What is that supposed to mean?" If he thought he could catch her off guard by playing tricks on her he was gravely mistaken. "I have no time to play games."

"Neither do I. I believe we could be of use to one another." At that, he emerged from the rubble, slowly and with his hands down and palms towards her in a gesture of, if not surrender, then at least ceasefire. Eyeing him with suspicion, Regina took a while to process his words, and before she could, more came: "As much as it shocks me, I am proposing a mutually beneficial...arrangement."

"What use could I possibly have for a thief?" As much contempt as she could muster was packed into that insult. "I didn't come here to steal."

"Perhaps if you told me what you did come here to do, it would be easier to reach an agreement." He paused for a moment, giving her a questioning yet at the same time amused look.

He couldn't seriously be expecting her to divulge any information at his ridiculous, completely out-of-bounds interrogation.

His mouth stretched into a grin. "No? Never mind. I'm offering you information, an advantage, a form of retribution against the Witch."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, thief. Speak clearly or stop wasting my time." She really could think of nothing anyone, much less someone like him, could possibly offer to her. This was a waste of time, and her patience - never a strength of hers anyway - was quickly running out.

"The name's Robin Hood, incidentally - I suggest considering using that to reduce the repetitiveness of 'thief'," he noted dryly. "There's a Wicked Witch from a different realm wreaking havoc in the Enchanted Forest."

That would be the witch he had mistaken her for earlier, she figured. Her mind rewound to the accusation he had so bitterly, savagely uttered. "And this witch has - kidnapped your son?" She knew all too well how that felt - the anguish, the anger, and the determination they fuelled. Regina tried to push the memories out of her mind, to lock the emotions away - she couldn't deal with this right now.

"Yes," he nodded simply. "I'm tracking her down and getting him back, with or without your help." His eyes darkened at those words, and Regina shivered -everything about the man suggested he would do whatever it took to accomplish his mission. Again, she could empathise with that; and again, she rebuffed the idea - she wasn't there to empathise with strangers, much less criminals of dubious character. "Since you're well-versed in magic, though," he continued, and she forced herself to return to the present moment, "your help would be of advantage, of course."

"And where's my gain in this?" she inquired brusquely. Her time was too precious to dawdle on the likes of this...this bandit. Why exactly was that? What else did she have to do? To hell with the emotional vortex within her!

"The Witch has taken up residence in your palace." The heavy emphasis on his words and his intense look both clearly showed he attributed much importance to this piece of information, and believed it held the key to their alliance.

"Oh, is that so?" An angry shadow crossed her features - an instinct, a jab of pride the insufferable man seemed to be counting on so much. Well, he would be disappointed. The Queen would have taken this as a personal offense, an impeachment on her power - she would aim for total destruction of the offender. Yet now Regina found it didn't really matter to her. Her frown cleared. "Well, she can have it if she is so inclined." Her words had quite the effect on him, and she couldn't suppress a grin. "It's just a palace, thief."

Whatever reaction he had expected, clearly it hadn't been this. "She is claiming reign over the land," he probed again, surveying her with his head tilted slightly.

Regina scoffed. "I have no interest in ruling this land or any other. That will be for Snow White and her husband to sort out."

"Snow White?" he frowned.

Was that a sign of recognition? It could have just been surprise. It didn't matter, after all.

Enough was enough.

"Look, bandit, let me suggest an arrangement that might suit us both," Regina strolled to where his bow lay buried under tattered old tomes, and leaned to pick it up. The thief watched her warily but his stance suggested confidence. "Because I have no time to spare for more argument, and because, in all honesty, I couldn't care less about what happens to any of the treasures that might have survived previous poaching, I am willing to be benevolent and tolerate your presence here." She handed him the bow and after a moment's gauging, he reached to take it. Regina snatched it away. "I require space and no disturbance," she said. "The library and a bedroom upstairs that I have already claimed. The rest you can do whatever the devil you want to do with as long as you're not in the way."

"For someone without a claim to rule, you certainly like to boss people around - in an obnoxiously aggravating manner at that," the man stated dryly. "You need not worry about the bedroom - I will steer clear of it. As to the library, as much as it displeases me, we will have to share - I have business here, too."

Once she would have spurned such a compromise. Now she was willing to concede - and apparently, so was he. Both were highly suspicious. She knew her reasons, of course, but marvelled at his.

"You seem to be adjusting to the rejection of your original offer rather well," she smirked.

"That, Your Majesty," he said with unmistakable sarcasm underlined by an unnecessarily elaborate bow, "is because I do not consider the subject closed yet."

Regina returned a small mock-curtsey without batting an eye. "Believe me, it is."

The men reached for his bow, which she let slip from her fingers, and shrugged.

"We shall see."


	4. Means to an End

_Robin gets a voice of his own in this one (and will in the future, as I plan to keep switching between Regina's and Robin's POV), and Regina negotiates the conflicting voices in her mind and heart._

* * *

><p>Robin leafed through the book he was gazing at but was actually taking nothing in. It seemed useless. All he had found had been so, really: either lacking magic completely or featuring magic way too advanced for him to even understand.<p>

The Queen would know.

What else could she want with the Dark One's library if not to study magic? It was a shame the library wasn't Robin' to offer in exchange for her help.

He would never have thought he might some day seek to ally himself with the Evil Queen. It had come as a shock even to himself when the idea popped up in his mind. The thought of the atrocities she was said to have committed made bile rise in his throat, and the idea of an alliance went completely against the grain. Yet chance had made their paths cross at a moment of dire need, and despite his misgivings, Robin had been quick to understand the potential benefits: someone with the Queen's abilities would greatly help his fight against the Witch.

Was it mere coincidence that the Queen should return to the land after such a long time precisely when the Witch was becoming an ever larger threat? Why was she back, along with other former denizens of the Enchanted Forest including even her arch enemy, Snow White, with whom she seemed to have no intention of contending?

The pile of unanswered questions grew by the minute, but the whys would soon turn into hows in Robin's mind. With magic to match the Witch's, his chances of rescuing Roland and the other kidnapped children were sparse. He had no magical allies, the books were proving useless without magical training, and precious time was being wasted in fruitless research while his son was in danger. He might not like it, but he needed the Queen.

Unfortunately, his cock-sure assertion made to the Queen had been a bluff, an idle wish at best - in reality, Robin had no irresistible offer to make. Calling on her pride and powerlust should have done the trick, but it hadn't, and the failure to capture her interest genuinely puzzled him. Robin had guessed the person the Queen was cracked up to be would jump at the notion of someone claiming her throne and her kingdom. Either the stories he had heard were misleading or they no longer applied, for after the initial speck of ire, the Queen's face had cleared and her answer had been poised.

However, it was not the unexpected collectedness of her reaction that intrigued him the most. There had been a brief moment in between the memory of which Robin just couldn't shake: the pained, hollow gape of loss staring from her eyes. What was that all about? If he had to guess he would probably say some great tragedy had made the Queen insusceptible to banalities like palaces or power. It almost seemed she had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose.

For reasons his mind didn't entirely grasp, this was making Robin even more anxious for her to accept the offer.

What more could he do? If the Queen didn't want power, what indeed could there be in it for her?

He'd have to think of something.

* * *

><p>Regina drew the moth-eaten damask curtains, letting some daylight into the room. It was still early, very early in the morning, and she had hoped to have the library all to herself for a few hours before the outlaw joined her. Everything about him caused her discomfort, which in turn brought forth irritation, which would manifest in malicious one-liners and even a thunderous row the previous day. Much to her dismay, she spotted the scoundrel sprawled in an ancient armchair with a book on his lap and a pile of them at his feet. He was asleep.<p>

Had he stayed till late at night looking for some means to increase his chances against the Witch who held his son hostage? Most likely he had.

The sight of his careworn face made it impossible to banish the thoughts: the circles under his eyes, the droop of his lips, and the frown that stayed on even as he slept awoke sympathy within her that she couldn't weed out. She had seen it before - she had lived it before. Neverland had given her many memories, none of them good; yet she welcomed even those because Henry had been there still. Yes, she knew how this man must feel. Perhaps she really could help him.

Regina sighed with frustration. This was not what she had come here for. The man was a stranger to her, an outlaw, a thief, and who knew what else. Besides, she could hardly do it anyway. It took massive effort to just get out of bed in the morning. Perhaps it was the drive, the purpose she saw written all over this accursed man's face that made her own plight seem even worse. No matter what dire circumstances he was faced with, he still had the chance of saving his son, of being reunited with him. For her there was no hope, no such prospect to draw strength from.

But she was here now. For all the trouble it had cost her, she could as well do some of the research she had claimed, before the Charmings and now also this stranger, to have come here for.

What was she looking for?

Something powerful. More powerful than she had ever even heard of. Something with the power to give her hope again.

Dozens of books were pulled out from the high-reaching bookshelves. Some were entirely non-magical; Rumple seemed to have enjoyed a good novel once in a while - or had that been Belle? Some were entirely too magical; indeed, there was one or two so gruesome they turned Regina's stomach. Apparently there were depths of dark arts even she and Rumple had not come anywhere near to.

There were unspeakable things magic could accomplish, ones Regina hadn't even dreamed of, and she reached the conclusion that much of what she was seeing should in fact never see the light of day. Was that the kind of magic she'd have to resort to in order to get back to Henry? She shut the book close. Henry would never want that; and, somewhat to her surprise, she realised neither did she anymore. There was no point in forcing a way back into his life at a cost that would make him not want her in it in the first place. Part of her felt relieved by that - the part that recoiled at the idea of plunging into the realms referred to by those wretched books.

It was at the sight of the growing pile of discarded old tomes that it dawned on her. How on earth had it taken so long?

Regina stood over the sleeping man with an arm hovering over his shoulder for a while, still unable to decide whether the idea was just foolish or completely insane, and unsure as to how to wake him. _Oh, for crying out loud, just do it_. She shook him with what she judged was moderate strength - decisive but not outright aggressive. He stirred immediately, sitting up bolt upright and ready to engage an enemy. The wild look on his face and the sudden movement of his hand to his belt challenged the composure she was determined to show, but in the end she managed to refrain from showing any of the distress she had momentarily experienced.

"How powerful is this witch?" she asked without preamble.

The Witch came form a different land, possibly with kinds of magic unknown in this world. If she possessed some powerful means, knew spells unknown possibly even to Rumplestiltskin, perhaps she would be the answer Regina barely dared hope for. Perhaps she would be the way home. Regina felt hope sprout in her soul and tried to uproot the tender blade - there was nothing more torturous than false hope - but once there, it was impossible to remove.

Besides, she had realised as she had stood over the sleeping outlaw, if this Witch was threatening the land, Snow White's efforts at rebuilding the kingdom would naturally lead to a state of war between them. They would not have a child-kidnapper go unpunished - a sentiment Regina had to admit she shared. She could as well engage the Witch right away.

Regina waited with bated breath as Robin slid the blade back into his belt.

"Powerful," he said finally. "So far she has met with little resistance. Am I to gather that Your Majesty is afraid of a challenge?" His eyes gleamed at the insinuation, and watched her intently.

"Your preposterous manipulations have no effect on my decisions, bandit." It was clever of him to try and play her like this, she had to give him that, and perhaps some time ago she would have been deceived, but now she saw past his intentions. "But this might be your lucky day. This Witch might, in the end, be the answer to my problem."

"What does that mean, exactly?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Did she catch a glimmer of hope in his carefully arranged face? Well, it was indeed his lucky day.

"As much as I detest the idea," Regina stressed, "it seems we have a common case after all. I have magic, and you - if you're to be believed - have information we could use to destroy her."

"I don't like this any more than you do, Your Majesty," he replied with shocking sincerity but a surprising lack of animosity. "But all the same, I'm glad we see eye to eye on the matter. How much time do you need before we leave?" he gestured towards the books scattered on the floor.

"We can leave in the afternoon. Hopefully we'll have finished with the Witch by nightfall."

"By nightfall? Your palace is several days' journey from here."

"You forget about this," she smirked and revealed with a flourish a knot of bright yellow flames on her palm.

He shook his head with a small smile. "I'm afraid it won't be quite so simple."

* * *

><p>There was little for her to pack - next to nothing, in fact. Two books from the library and a pair of identical, small mirrors fit easily in the leather bag she had discovered in one of the drawers. She ransacked a few bedrooms in search of a pair of boots presentable enough but flat and thus more convenient for this ridiculous hike they were about to embark upon. The man who referred to himself as Robin Hood - though heaven only knew if that was the outlaw's real name at all - had informed her, with an unnerving mixture of amusement and weariness, that the rules of magic seemed to have been slightly altered by the Witch's doing, wherefore it would be unwise to just poof themselves to the Dark Palace as Regina had planned to do. Regina was beginning to feel infuriated by this mystery witch. The bandit was turning out to be a real pain in the rear, too.<p>

Being denied the use of magic until further notice was a nuisance but it had its perks. It would give her time to conserve her energy - something she had to admit she needed to do after the series of challenging feats of magic both in Neverland and, within a span of just a few hours, again in Storybrooke. She'd been left feeling more vulnerable than she liked to admit. Now at least she had a pretext to gather her strength again, without revealing the delicate situation to this man she absolutely refused to trust.

The feeling certainly seemed to be mutual, which was nothing but clever of the man. She was the Evil Queen for the people of the Enchanted Forest after all, and she could easily believe his words when he had stated flat out his distaste at an ally of her calibre. Yet the inexplicable absence of personal hate she had been so accustomed to receiving from the often nameless, faceless victims of her deeds confused her.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, he wasn't there yet. A grain of irritation stirred inside her, offended at being kept waiting; she dismissed it impatiently. This was difficult - constantly having to balance the Queen she had been in this land, and whose persona she needed to shroud herself in for this mission, and the Regina she had become since. Could she be both? Could she switch between them as needed, the way she was consciously opting for the Queen in face of the constant sense of threat she felt at the presence of this outlaw she had allied herself with?

"I'm sorry," she heard his voice amid hurried steps from the landing above. "I need a little more time."

"I don't tolerate tardiness," she retorted.

He stopped a few steps short of the bottom, towering over her. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face hardened. "I believe I apologised," he said dryly.

"Well, that changes nothing about the fact that you're delaying our departure, disrupting our plan already. How am I supposed to feel about working with someone so unreliable from the very start?"

"I assure you you'll find I'm no such thing, Your Majesty," he returned with indignation. "There's something I would take with me that I cannot find."

"Then by all means tell me what the invaluable object is. I might as well aid you in your search - what with your apparent incompetence, we could be here for days otherwise." That wasn't fair, and the ease with which the words rolled off her tongue practically without her own volition made her wonder if the Queen was getting the best of her - could she control how far she would let this side of her go, or would she lose herself in the process again as she had before?

To deepen her discomfort, the wretched man seemed untouched by her glaring insult. He returned her look with a calm if a little careworn look of his own. "It's nothing you will find any value in. It's a green camisole I had made for my son but hadn't gotten the chance to give to him yet."

Regina felt a crushing onset of shame. Her face burned and her lips quivered as her hand shot involuntarily to the folds of her garment. He was wrong - she saw all the value in the prized object. She bowed her head to hide the crimson creeping into her cheeks, and pushed past him up the stairs.

Sure enough, she found it on the floor beside the bedside table - she must have dropped it the morning of her arrival after she had tripped over it in the hall, and never thought of it since. Picking it up, she straightened it on the bed - a deep green camisole fit for a child about four or five years of age. Again, her hand wandered into the folds of her dress and lingered briefly on the folded sheet of paper. Regina swallowed. Now was not the time to brood. They needed to go.

Folding the small, carefully stitched garment, she made her way back to the hall.

Robin Hood was still standing where she'd left him, possibly too stunned by her inexplicable behaviour to move. Regina pushed the camisole into his hands, never meeting his eye.

"Can we go now?" she said in what she had intended to be an authoritative tone but realised with horror came out hoarse with emotion - emotion she had no intention of allowing him a glimpse into.

She strolled past him briskly but he caught up with her at the door and detained her by the arm - not harshly but the contact made her want to run and hide all the same. Or perhaps the considerateness in the gesture was precisely what made her want to run.

"Where'd you find it?"he asked quietly.

"Over there," she suggested with a motion of her head, and, against herself, stole a glance at him while she thought he would be looking the other way. She fancied she saw his lips curl into something that could be the beginning of a smile. Then his eyes were upon her, and she found she couldn't avert her look for some reason, even though she felt a rising sense of panic.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"It's nothing," she heard herself say. What the hell was wrong with her? Perhaps it wasn't too late to still save something. "It means nothing to me," she assured him, "and seems to carry much meaning for you. And now we can go at last."

Regina slipped away from him; he let her go easily. She strode out of into the daylight with her head held high. Thank heavens, it had worked - she had just saved the Queen's face.

"Thank you," he repeated as he fell into step with her under the dark blue sky.

Perhaps he wasn't entirely fooled after all; she'd have to be more careful to keep the facade up.

But the faint warm glow in the pit of her stomach certainly wasn't helping matters.


	5. Dream Team

_This chapter contains some frosty weather and some frosty manner, both of which Robin tries to mitigate but succeeds only partially. Well, see for yourselves. Again, thanks for your support!_

* * *

><p>Several miles passed in near silence. Robin made a few attempts at polite conversation, all of which were met with curt, dismissive answers by the Queen. Little though this surprised him, he would have preferred conversation all the same for multiple reasons.<p>

Robin wasn't used to silent travel; journeys would be spent in lively conversation of at least companionable silence with his Merry Men. Now there was little distraction from the worries clouding his mind and heart. Was Roland alright? Was he being kept well? Was he scared? Would Robin really find him at the Dark Palace as he assumed he would? Would his and the Queen's joint effort be enough to bring the Witch down?

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the sky had turned a hostile, steely grey. Glancing to his side he saw the Queen had fallen behind. Perhaps she was tired. Someone like her would hardly be used to long, tiresome travel on foot. Robin refrained from sighing; he hadn't thought about this before. As much as he tried to stay fair, the idea of being delayed still irked him somewhat - the image of his son, alone and scared, continuously haunted him.

"Would you like to rest?" he asked, turning back.

She caught up before he finished the sentence and marched right past him without so much as a reply. Robin's eyes followed her. The hem of her skirt bore the marks of mud, and the dust of the road had settled on her boots. Darker than the gathering clouds in her elaborate gown, she moved with surprising energy and determination, taking long, brisk strides that bore a certain elegance as well. The woman was quite impressive.

Robin moved to draw level with her. For all she seemed to care, he could have stayed behind, for she never showed any intention of checking whether he was following at all. Not that he should care.

He had heard all they said about the Evil Queen since he had arrived in this land, of course. Even if just the half of it was true it was beyond atrocious. Somehow those stories drew an image of her larger than life, whereas he couldn't help but see an actual person walking beside him, kicking up the dust with a tenacity to match his own. True, he saw more pride behind her effort than the worry he was being fuelled by, but that changed nothing about the fact that she had guts. Even without magic she seemed to be more than a spoiled, capricious tyrant.

The scene at the library was nagging at his mind again. Why hadn't she just used her magic and killed him? Then she would be rid of him to prowl the Dark Castle to her will. He would not have made it so easy for her to eliminate him of course but still, she hadn't even seemed to seriously consider the option. Why? Was she not the infamous Evil Queen? Had she not brought death and suffering on dozens of people before the Curse and through it? Why not crush the odd outlaw when he crossed her path?

And then there was the camisole. Robin didn't understand himself why it had grown on hims so much, especially since Roland had never even touched it, but he just hadn't been able to part with it. The Queen's initial snappish reaction had been no shock to him but what had followed had left his mind blank. Not only had she delivered the garment but he had also felt quite certain he had caught the reflection of some curious emotion in her expression as she had handed it over. Yes, there had been something there - her eyes - though what it had been he couldn't say.

All in all, his new ally was a mystery to him, and he was intrigued against himself.

A rush of shiny droplets spattered the ground. A cool wind chimed in, throwing a spray of water in his face. The sting said it before his eyes caught it: they had a nasty night ahead of them. There was hardly a patch of sky that hadn't been obstructed by a flight of heavy clouds. The treetops swayed, leaves were torn from the branches and whipped away by the gale, and the dirt path soon became a muddy sluice.

Robin huddled under his cloak, pulling it tighter to him. A glance at the Queen revealed her struggling to keep her coat from being whipped away by the wind. Just as he moved to help her, she twisted out of his reach - whether on purpose or by accident he couldn't tell. Either way, she managed to bring the coat under control again, and without looking at him once, pushed forward against the oncoming storm.

* * *

><p>The wet logs and branches provided for a sad sight of a fire: more smoke than heat rose from the pile of wood but they would have to make do with what they had. They'd been lucky to at least have come across the small cave to have a dry patch of ground to rest for the night. The Queen's fingers would twitch now and again at the pathetic sight of the smoke rings swirling around them, floating upwards, and eventually dissolving in the night air. When her eyes flashed at him and her mouth twitched, he braced himself for some sharp remark but none came. Nor did she proceed to outdo his attempt at a fire with a magical one of her own. She merely crouched and rubbed her hands over the weak flames.<p>

Robin handed her a chunk of bread and a lump of cheese. "Not exactly a royal feast, Your Majesty, but supper all the same," he grinned to ease the mood. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, surveying him. At last, she took the food he was offering - and looked away without a single word of comment.

Quite irrationally, he felt a little hurt. Perhaps he shouldn't complain: worse things had happened to those in the Queen's disfavour.

"By all means correct me if I am wrong," Robin couldn't stop himself, "but I take it there will be no talking at the table?"

She graced him with a fleeting look and a slightest tilt of her head but no more; then she went back to her bread and cheese. Robin's dejection morphed into irritation. Had there ever been anyone more obstinate, more conceited, more frustrating? Challenging, intriguing, beautiful? Wait, where in the hells did that come from?

"When did the Witch take your son?"

The unexpected words made him snap back to reality. So she had spoken after all. It took him a while to absorb the message, while he busily worked at chasing away the unsettling impressions of a moment ago. She didn't meet his look as she waited for his answer.

"Two days ago."

"What were you still doing in Rumple's castle?"

Was that an accusation? It had been hard to stay. The truth was the only thing he had wanted had been to rush to Roland's rescue at once.

"Trying to find something to use against her more effectively," he answered and poked the fire with a stick, sending up another cloud of smoke and a handful of sparks.

"Found anything of note?" Her voice suggested no reproach, quite the contrary: it was quite neutral - too much so, in fact. But why?

"Not really, as you have probably gathered." He nibbled on his chunk of bread. "All notable magical items are gone, and the books I could make nothing of."

"They're beyond the level of anyone not sufficiently versed in magic," she nodded. "Nothing you as a non-practitioner could gather anything from."

"My turn to ask," he said matter-of-factly, when in fact he was conscious of a certain level of excitement at finally having her talking. Keeping it casual would hopefully keep her comfortable enough to continue. To his dismay, however, she had tensed already, stopped eating, and merely examined him closely. A sudden urge to swallow the words overcame him at that.

"Well?" she demanded with an eyebrow raised. That was good - curiosity was good, it wasn't animosity; maybe he hadn't antagonised her yet after all.

"I want my son back. What does the Witch have that you want?" The question had been nagging at him all day. "Not your palace. Not the kingdom. What?"

Did her eyes glaze over for a split second?

"Magic," she said with her chin up.

Why the defiant air?

"To what end?" he pressed on.

The Queen sat up straight, her presence coming to fill up the space in an instant. She gave him a long, hard, searching look that made Robin feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. If she was weighing her options as he assumed she must be, what were the options she was considering, and what would eventually spur her decision?

The Queen stood up, and he hardly needed any more to understand the conversation was over.

"Good night," she said with an air of uncompromising finality. Then she spread a blanket on the floor on the far side of the fire, and retired without further comment.

What the hell was wrong with him? What was he thinking, treading carefully all day to avoid conflict? He definitely wasn't intimidated by her, although she could certainly be intimidating. So the Queen kept him at a distance - why should that bother him at all?

But there was something there behind her simple 'magic' - her hesitation was proof enough of that. The more he had hoped she would tell, the more her resolve not to had seemed to grow, until eventually she had chosen not to reveal any more to him.

Why did he even care? He searched his mind warily until it returned a reasonable explanation. Probably because, once she possessed all that extra magic, she would be all the more dangerous. Yes, that had to be it. Robin settled on his own blanket and closed his eyes, leaving his contending gut feeling outside the door.

* * *

><p>The morning brought more rain. The wind only added to their inconvenience, sending torrents of water against them in forceful blasts. Towards midday, the shower turned into a drizzle, which in turn was replaced by sleet. Cold watery flakes hit their clothes, skin and eyes with a sting, then dissolved leaving a wet trail behind. The wind crept under their skin, bearing with it the taste of ice.<p>

Robin kept his head bowed against the hostile elements. So did the Queen - every now and then he chanced a look at her, and always found her keeping up with him but never looking his way. They had barely spoken a word since they set out, and with the steady onslaught of rain and snow and wind it was easier to keep it that way.

Then, about an hour into the icy rain, Robin finally seemed to have caught her at an unguarded moment. Clutching her coat with both hands, she tugged it upwards for protection from the cool droplets trickling down her neck. She shivered. Robin frowned. Even feathers could only repel so much, and the Queen's coat was dripping water - it couldn't be providing much protection at this point. Robin snatched one of the blankets from the satchel he was carrying. They'd miss it at night but with a proper fire, he would be fine without it.

The Queen winced as he made to throw the blanket over her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Your coat's all soaked," Robin managed, baffled by her reaction.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she resisted, pulling away from him and backing away beyond his reach. Her eyes seemed to water and her wind-beaten cheeks and ears were raw red.

"Your Majesty," he insisted with restrained mildness, though impatience threatened to overtake him. Why was she being so impossibly difficult? It was just a blanket, and he was offering it in all good will within perfect reason. Did she not see that? "This is unwise, you'll get ill."

"How dare you patronise me," she huffed with her arms crossed. "I don't need your favours."

Was she so conceited that she felt it would be beneath her to accept even the least of help from an outlaw?

"I'm just being a decent human being here." The Queen scoffed at that. That did it for Robin - what was the woman thinking? "Your absurd pride will cost us precious time if you get yourself ill!" he exclaimed.

Her face darkened at his outrcy. "Put that thing away before it gets all soaked through," she snapped, "or else you'll just be a blanket short tonight - your choice." Turning away from him, she set off at a would-be-brisk pace, her boots squelching in the mud.

Robin stared after her for a moment. Had he not seen it with his own eyes he never would have believed a person could be so utterly impetuous. Then he stowed the blanket back away into the bag and followed, not bothering to catch up but staying a few steps behind her. When her foot slipped on a rivulet running along the path and the Queen landed in the soft brown slush, Robin didn't rush to her help.

"What is that?" she eyed him with suspicion and an alertness that puzzled him. One would say he was threatening her in some way.

"Tea, Your Majesty," he said, holding out a tin cup that oozed a funny, obnoxious odour. He could do it - he could keep a straight face. "For your cold."

"I do not have a cold." An almighty sneeze shook her. Her cheeks flushed and her lips tightened. She shot him a dangerous look that dared him to argue back.

Robin tried not to look amused. The woman was quite impossible. Still he said nothing but kept his arm outstretched, waiting. At long last, she accepted the steaming cup.

The Queen wrinkled her nose at the smell. Robin averted his face for a moment - he wouldn't laugh. She took a careful sip and her face contorted. The tea tasted as foul as it smelled, and Robin couldn't help his lips twitching at the sight of her. The Queen shot him an ugly glare but didn't comment. Bracing herself, she continued to sip the hot beverage. Robin watched her features rearrange into mild surprise and badly masked relief. She began to breathe more freely, and seemed to enjoy it. That was the perk of the concoction - it stunk and tasted nasty but its effect was immediate, almost miraculous.

"Thanks," she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the mug.

"Excuse me, what was that again?" Robin asked with a smirk.

She pinned him with a direct, firm look. "Don't push it, thief." Her eyes were a rich brown and seemed to radiate some mystical power.

Robin cleared his throat. "Well, you're welcome, Your Majesty." He opted for a humorous undertone. "Wouldn't want you to be struck down by a common cold when we have the Witch to bring down." Would she play along?

"Have no fear, bandit. I'm not so easily defeated."

His eyes bore into hers in search for the answer to an unspoken question. Her face tensed.

"Perhaps you'd be even less so if your weren't so stubborn," Robin chanced mildly.

She jerked the cup from her lips at his words, sloshing the little remnants of tea over her boots.

"You overreach now," she hissed.

They stared at each other moment after moment, sparks flying from her eyes only to break on his steady, searching gaze. Sometimes, anger was no more than fear in hiding. What did the Queen fear? Perhaps in time he would understand. This woman was like an intricate puzzle that refused to give away the pieces, much less the key to the solution. Well, he had patience enough.

"Good night, Your Majesty," he said amicably and retired under a blanket. He heard her do the same shortly.

When her breathing grew calm and steady, Robin rose and spread his blanket over her own, then curled up close by the fire and went to sleep with a lingering grin on his face.

* * *

><p>Regina wasn't asleep. She was lying huddled under the thin blanket, fighting each oncoming shudder, suppressing the odd threat of a sneeze, forcing her breathing into a peaceful pattern. Was he sleeping yet? No - that faint rustle had to be him fidgeting. For one foolish moment she wondered if he wasn't going to walk out on her. Then she felt the weight of something covering her and stiffened, ready to lash out. But nothing happened. A scrunch of boots and a shuffling sound later, everything grew quiet again.<p>

Regina relished the warmth spreading over her under the double covers. Why did he do that? Out of all the bandits out there, had she actually stumbled upon a gallant one? Rubbish.

Was he freezing now, just like she had been before, or was the fire enough? Why did that even bother her?

She forced her mind back into concentration, her ears strained, listening for his breathing. Her original plan had been to seek a quiet place aside the camp but that would be foolish under the circumstances. If the thief was asleep though, and she remained quiet, this would do. Her fingers trailed down her gown and buried into the folds, wrapping around a square of folded paper. She stopped and listened. All seemed at peace. Good - she wouldn't be seen, and there would be no obnoxious questions.

Flickering shadows obscured parts of the carefully unfolded piece of paper. Not that she needed the light: she could see it - see him - with her eyes closed, every hour of the day. A lump grew in her throat, choking her, forcing her to gasp for breath. This wasn't new to her: seeing shadows, seeking solitude, feeding on memories. It was Neverland all over again, except worse, because this time it was forever.

The Henry in the picture she was clutching was smiling. They had both been happy on the day it had been taken. Was he happy now? Had it worked the way she had intended for it to? If so, he had no recollection of a mother other than Emma. From every memory they had shared, Regina would have been erased and replaced by Emma instead. Anything, as long as he was happy and loved. He had that. He had to. It was what she wanted for him, it was what she had given her happy ending away for more than anything else. If it had worked the way it was supposed to.

If it had worked the way it was supposed to, Regina would never see Henry again. She would never hug him, stroke him, or place a kiss on his forehead. She would never watch him with his face buried in a comic book, stuffing himself with his favourite pizza. He would never come groaning to ask for medicine for an upset tummy afterwards, and she would never give him a spoonful of gin on a cube of sugar to soothe his stomach, and sit by his bed while they waited for the nausea to go away. She would never hear him call her Mom again.

A dry sob escaped her. Everything hurt. But despite the lump in her throat, no tears would come. At this point, she caught herself wishing they would.


	6. Clash and Concord

_Regina faces moments of trust and distrust, neither of which she finds easy to deal with. She stumbles upon unwarranted enemies and unexpected friends alike. A face-off is imminent.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Regina woke to the crackle of a newly rekindled fire and refused to move. It was warm under the blankets, and soft, and easy - she didn't have to struggle to keep up with a forest-prowling thief twice as fit as herself, nor did she have to be constantly on her guard to keep him outside her defenses.<p>

Her feet ached, and when she tried to move her legs her muscles screamed in pain. Thank goodness for the flat boots, but even those were not enough to keep her feet from developing blisters. It was easier to stay beneath the covers and pretend to be asleep a little longer.

Steps approached, even more cautious than the night before. How long before he decided to shake her awake? Regina half-resolved to open her eyes and force herself up, when iron fingers grabbed her by the arms, yanked her up from the ground and pinned her to the wall, leaving her feet dangling in the air.

Regina gasped. The man wasn't Robin Hood. This one was at least a head taller and strong as a bull. Her arms began to lose feeling as he tightened his hold on her. Her mind raced. Magic would sort him out, hopefully, but with her powers weakened and her arms out of the game, chances were she wouldn't do enough damage.

"What do you want?" she croaked, playing for time, mustering as much anger as she could.

"One witch down," the man spat. "One to go."

Regina's eyes darted from the man's face to his massive torso to his lower body. In a flash, she aimed a two-footed kick at his crotch, full force. The man roared and let go off her, clutching the painful spot in agony. Regina crashed to the ground and started scrambling away from the man's reach, but he was too fast. She groaned in frustration as he lifted her up in the air again.

"John!" a voice boomed from behind. "What the hell are you doing?"

The man whipped around, twisting Regina's arm painfully. Robin Hood was standing at the entrance. His face darkened at Regina's involuntary yelp. He wasn't wielding a weapon and was shorter than John, but somehow he managed to look formidable, and Regina's captor shrunk back a little at the sight of Robin with his eyes flashing anger.

"I caught the witch," he explained with a slight hesitation.

"You're wrong. This is the Queen. Why?" he demanded again.

"So she won't be setting any more villages on fire, like she did the one to the north last night."

"That's impossible," Robin said with a quick glance at Regina. "We've been together the whole time."

The man - John - was still not releasing his grip on her. Her arms were all but numb by now. If the bandit couldn't keep his cronies in check, she would have to take care of it herself.

"Then who else?" the giant objected. "She has magic. She could've slipped out, or maybe she don't even have to."

That was typical - people who didn't understand the first thing about magic were the quickest to make assumptions. Regina was flushed with anger, shame and frustration. They knew there had been a witch here wreaking havoc before Regina had even returned, yet the first thing they do is accuse her of the deed? Well, so much for the alliance. Now she would have to deal with John _and_ Robin. It only remained to hope that her magic had recovered enough.

"I don't think so, John. Let her go." Robin's words came as a shock - a bigger shock than the unjust accusation. Could it be that he actually believed her innocent? "John," Robin said quietly but she heard a note of warning in his voice. If John refused to obey, would there be a fight? "Let her go - now." Regina's feet touched the ground as the giant set her down again, not gently but not too roughly either. Her arms burned and refused to obey. Robin turned to John. "Go and bring some more water for the fire. I'll take care of this." The ruffian gave Regina one more look of pure mistrust, but then did as told.

Regina rubbed the sore spots on her arms carefully, holding back a groan. It hurt like hell.

"Did you do it?"

The thief was fixing her with his gaze. So he wasn't so sure after all. Well, it hadn't been very clever of him to let her go if he had doubts. The intensity of his stare made her skin crawl, which in turn infuriated her.

"Does it matter if I deny it?" she spat but the effect was rather pathetic. She was tired of everything, so very tired. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? "You will believe what you want anyway."

"Did you do it?" he repeated without pause.

For a wild moment she considered conceding. She'd get rid of them all, and she wouldn't have to face that horrible feeling of being misjudged and rejected.

"No," she said quietly. Whatever made her say it and why it lacked mockery or defiance at least was beyond her.

_Please, believe me_, said a small voice somewhere deep down. She wanted to strangle that voice. But she was that voice.

His eyes bore into hers. Unease overcame her under his piercing gaze - it seemed to reach all the way to the depths of her soul, and she felt panic rise inside her.

"Then that's enough," he nodded finally. "John," he said to the returning giant, "this has been settled. The Queen is our ally, not our enemy."

John looked at her and Regina bore his glare unflinching. Well, his eyes didn't feel like X-rays seeing right through the protective shell around her soul.

"Why are you here?" Robin asked. "You were supposed to guard the post until further notice or an emergency."

"There's an emergency, alright," John replied. "You're headed straight towards it. The Witch's army."

"This Witch has an army now?" Regina would not have expected an army here. If Snow and Emma were to be believed, the land was hardly occupied and all you could hope to send an army against anyway were the colonies of ogres. That had been the case before the New Curse, though.

"They say it's an nasty bunch of flesh-eating monsters."

"People say a lot of things," Regina scoffed. People were so gullible, they believed anything way too easily - she knew only too well. But this bandit, Robin Hood, believed her word now, despite her name in this land. Why would he do that? She gave herself a mental shake - there were more urgent matters to handle right now.

"Has anyone actually seen them?"

"There's been no confrontation so far," John replied, confirming her suspicions.

"Then we'd better avoid them for now," Robin cut in. "Let's continue to the palace."

"We can't," Regina said. "They'll pass too close to Snow White's castle. There will be battle."

John bristled. "We're not going up against Snow White now, are we?"

She actually felt sympathetic now - the idea of suddenly being allied with the Evil Queen had to take some getting used to.

"Of course not," Robin assured him patiently. That certainly was a virtue she could not boast. "We're going up against the Witch." He turned to her. "Will Snow White be coming to meet them?"

That didn't bear much thinking or, indeed, leave much doubt.

"If they know she's coming, yes. They'd never miss a chance to be the hero. Or stand up to a villain." That was a little more than she had intended to say - they were allies now after all. But old habits die hard, and this certainly seemed to be true of both parties.

Robin put out the fire and got the bags. "We'd best join our forces then, before the Witch arrives. Lead the way, Your Majesty."

* * *

><p>They came upon Snow White, Charming, and the rest of the party before noon. There was no one else with them, however, not even a semblance of an army. Snow greeted Robin with easy familiarity that made Regina feel a stab of envy, which she immediately snubbed out. Apparently the two of them had been bandits together for a short time. What was it to Regina?<p>

As Charming and Robin shook hands, Snow slipped away and headed to her.

"Everything alright?" she asked with a scrutinising look that made Regina want to withdraw as usual. She nodded. "Regina..." Snow put a hand on her shoulder and took her to the side. What ever was going on? "This Witch, she's spreading word that it's you doing it - burning down villages."

So it was villages now, was it? This morning it had only been one village. Her reputation was not going to soar. Ironically, this time she was not to blame. But, as before, that wouldn't make any difference.

Perhaps some of her thoughts showed, because Snow hurried to add: "We didn't believe it."

Regina's eyes wandered to the rest of the group. It was hard to imagine none of them believed the lie. Snow would have made them go with her own belief, most likely.

Even so, there were now at least two people who had chosen to believe in Regina's innocence. That was more than Regina would have dared hope for.

"Do you know anything about her?" she asked.

"I was hoping you would," Snow sighed. "Nothing in Rumple's books?"

"There wasn't much time to look," Regina admitted. "The Witch is holding his son," she pointed Snow in the bandit's direction, "and other children captive at - my palace." Despite what she had told Robin Hood, this was beginning to bother her, especially with the newly uncovered framings. This Witch had some gall.

"The Blue Fairy told us that. She doesn't know much about the Witch, though."

"Your old friend might," Regina said. "At least he pretended to, when he suggested teaming up against her."

"We'll ask him, then. Regina," Snow began, and the way she spoke made it clear that she was changing the topic, probably to one Regina would feel uncomfortable with. The awkward pause indicated she was right. "How are you really?" Snow blurted eventually.

"What do you mean? Apart from a receding cold, I'm fine, of course."

Her walls had come back up with the bandit around, and now she wasn't ready to let anyone in. The memory of that brief moment of connection between Snow and her the night of her departure was bittersweet on her tongue. Nevertheless, now was not a time to let something like that reoccur.

Snow surveyed her with a slight tilt of her head, then she sighed and nodded. "Of course."

"Robin!"

A female voice rang from between the trees, and a woman in full armour appeared on the road, followed by a bunch of men. It all clicked now: Regina had seen her in that forest hideaway on her way to the Dark Castle, and John had been there, too.

"Mulan," he went to meet her. "What news?"

"They're coming. Now. They're almost upon us."

"But they were supposed to be miles away!" John exclaimed.

"Well, now they're not," Mulan stated. "Is this all the force we have?" She looked over the moderately small group: the Charmings, the dwarfs, the Merry Men, Granny, Belle, Neal, Hook, Robin, and Regina - at this point Regina believed Mulan's eyes showed recognition and a glint of suspicion. Well, that was hardly new.

"For now," Charming answered. "We're tougher than we look."

"I should hope so," Mulan nodded.

"We need to choose a battlefield," Robin proposed. "And we need to choose well."

"There's not much choice," the fat monk Regina remembered from the hideout spoke. "We can't go back, and we can't go forward. They've cut us off."

"That's just swell," Grumpy grunted. "Seems they picked the battlefield, after all."

"There's a mountain pass in the direction they're pushing us," Charming said.

Mulan shook her head. "We can't let ourselves be ambushed there. They'll shoot us all in a heartbeat."

"Unless we shoot them first," Robin said. "We need to claim the area before they get the chance."

* * *

><p>Regina was remotely aware of her feet aching again as they marched their way to the mountain pass, but she dismissed the thought and kept up just like the days before. Everyone else seemed to be doing their best, too, so they made good progress and reached the pass by late afternoon.<p>

The last stretch was steep uphill. Snow fell back somewhat and halted, leaning against a tree. Could she be so out of shape since her bandit days? Even in Neverland she seemed to be doing fine - better than Regina sometimes. She looked around for Charming - he was Snow's husband, for heaven's sake, and forever trailing behind her. But this time he was nowhere in sight, and wasn't that just wonderful. So Regina caught herself retracing her steps to check on Snow.

"I'm fine," Snow breathed before Regina had had time to come up with something to say. "Just a little out of breath. A little...tired."

"Why don't you ride, then?" There were a couple of horses with the party, surely they'd find one to give her.

"I've never been all that fond of riding," Snow smiled wanly, clutching her chest.

That was ridiculous. If Snow had trouble getting there on foot, surely she could take a few minutes' slow-paced ride. Regina looked around for the nearest available horse and saw Charming leading one down the slope to them. Good. He'd take care of his wife now.

"You'll be alright now," she said to Snow, turned away, and resumed her walk uphill.

"Regina, thanks," she heard Snow call after her, but she didn't look back.

Life had a weird sense of humour. After so many years of attempted murder, here they were stuck together, even looking out for each other - no matter how awkward that was proving to be. There was something else to it besides awkwardness, of course, but Regina wasn't ready to admit that yet.

When she reached the top, she found the others examining the terrain. Granny and a few Merry Men were even trying out their aim with the crossbow and bow, aiming down into the valley.

"This is all nice and well, of course," Hook smirked, looking down himself. "But what if they corner us here instead of riding across the valley?"

"Why would they?" Charming, who was helping Snow down from the horse, said with a hint of impatience. "They'll think we're fleeing, not taking on an army ten times our size."

But Regina had to agree. Surely they couldn't just trust the enemy to be reckless enough to fall into their own trap.

Robin Hood seemed to share that view.

"We should have a plan for such a scenario," he said.

"It's impossible to fight them here," Mulan backed him up immediately. "The terrain is too open, they would come at us in waves, and defeat us by sheer numbers."

"So that means we need to lure them into the pass somehow," Robin nodded, and Regina's mind clicked. She fancied she knew what the man was thinking.

"A decoy?" Neal asked.

The bandit confirmed Regina's assumption: "On horseback. They'll follow in belief the rest of us had taken the same route, and before they see their error it'll be too late."

It sounded like a good plan. Who would their rider be? Someone skilful on horseback, surely, otherwise it could easily cost the person their life, and quite possibly the lives of everyone else, too. Even for the most skilled rider it would be a risky endeavour.

"He'd need to ride close to the walls so the enemy stays in range," Charming mused.

"He?" Regina, Belle, and Mulan all bristled.

"They," Robin rushed to correct. "But we need you up here," he addressed Mulan, "to fight the strays. Your Majesty, any fireballs you can rain on them?"

"Plenty," she assured him with as much confidence as she could muster. The truth was, she still didn't quite know if her magic was ready to bear the strain of such a battle. Well, she'd see soon enough.

"I'll go," Belle said in answer to Robin's look. "I'm useless for fighting, but I can be a decoy." A closer look revealed a slight breathlessness and a tremble to Belle's fingers. Courage she had, but Regina wondered if she was at least a decent rider at all. Robin, too, seemed to have reservations, but didn't elaborate.

"There's our plan B, then," he concluded. "Now let's fan out and prepare for the attack."

* * *

><p>Regina sat on a large sun-warmed rock gazing into the valley below. Everyone else seemed to be letting their guard down - it'd been a while and the attack should have begun already, but nothing had happened yet.<p>

"Mind if I join you?"

Regina's eyes darted up and met the light blue-grey ones of Granny Lucas. She didn't exactly desire company but her curiosity was larger than her apprehension. They hadn't really talked much, not even in Storybrooke, apart from the occasionally exchanged phrase at the diner. Granny had advised her about Henry once or twice, though. It had meant more to Regina then than she thought anyone knew. Now she felt a surge of gratefulness at the thought.

She scooted a little to make place.

"How are you holding up?" Granny asked flat out.

"Fine," Regina returned automatically. It wasn't even always a conscious decision to keep people out anymore. It had become something of an instinct.

Granny gave a humourless laugh. "Yeah, I'm miserable, too."

It took a while for Regina to understand. "Oh," she sighed with a ripple of shame at not having noticed earlier. "Where's Ruby?"

"Who knows..." Granny shrugged. "Prowling the woods somewhere, I hope. I haven't smelled her yet, though."

Smelled her? Could Granny be a werewolf like her granddaughter? She had to be.

"I didn't realise this was something you were born with. So it's hereditary?" This was easier than talking about Henry, and Regina's curiosity was in fact genuine.

"Oh, yes," she nodded, meeting Regina's eye. "You're surprised."

"I guess I just never figured you were one, too." The truth was, she had never even thought about it, and even if she had known she wouldn't have cared. It hadn't been an exaggeration when she'd declared once that she'd cared for no one's happiness other than her own. "Then again, I also missed the fact your granddaughter was missing. I guess that just goes to show..."

"...that grief can be selfish," Granny finished for her. That wasn't been quite what Regina had in mind, and the statement had come out less harsh than Regina's own thoughts - something that hardly happened. "Tell me something, Regina," Granny said, and Regina became wary at once. But Granny took no notice, and continued in a relaxed tone. "Do you cry?"

"Cry?" No one had ever asked her that, as far as she could remember, and it took her completely off-guard. "You mean, ever?"

"I mean in the past days."

There had not been a single tear since their arrival. She would have been grateful, even proud of such an accomplishment once. Now it was just making matters worse. Surely she was supposed to cry a whole river's worth of tears after losing her son, so why couldn't she?

Regina kept silent.

"That's what I thought," Granny said softly.

"You're-" Regina bristled, then cooled down again at the sight of Granny's lined face, "not implying I don't miss him enough." Regina understood that somehow, though she couldn't have said if it had been Granny's voice or eyes or something else entirely. She only knew the woman wasn't judging her or accusing her.

"No," Granny confirmed as much. "You miss him too much, dear."

The word sounded different when spoken like that - Regina wouldn't go as far as to call it affectionate but she had no other word for it either.

Granny looked straight at her for the first time in a while. "It will get worse before it gets better."

"You seem to know a lot about grief," Regina muttered.

"I lost six brothers and my father to the wolf that marked me."

"What became of the wolf?" Regina knew what she would have done, and Granny could be fierce when challenged, and could hold her own rather well.

"I married him later," Granny chuckled, and this time there was warmth in the laugh.

Now, that Regina hadn't foreseen. How little she knew about the people she had cursed and lived around for almost three decades since. "I'm sorry about your loss."

"The trick is finding something to hold on to."

"Apparently I've always done that the wrong way - chosen the wrong things. Except for Henry."

"Now you're being unfair. Cut yourself some slack. You're here now. You're fighting - in a healthier way than before. I call that progress."

"It doesn't feel like much of a fight," Regina said, staring at her hands. Would Granny guess about the hollowness that seemed to be occupying most of her, and how she felt it threatened to fill her every pore, until maybe she'd grow so light and empty she would float away one day?

"Maybe it doesn't now. But you're a fighter."

Regina pondered that. It was true - she had never been one to lie down and die. She might just consider choosing her battles more carefully in the future. With Henry she had made her best choice ever, even though there had been mistakes as well. Once again, she remembered that time at the diner with a crying baby Henry, and Granny's advice on how to soothe her little prince with just the power of her voice. Well, now was as good a time as any...

"You know, I never thanked you for your advice - about Henry." Looking up at Granny, she saw a warm smile reflected in her eyes. "When he was a baby and I didn't know what I was doing and there was no one to ask..."

"We're all more or less clueless with the first one. In many ways we remain clueless even after a few," Granny grinned and shook her head at some distant memory. Then she looked back at Regina. "Just for the record, you could have asked."

That was too much for her to process. Overwhelmed, Regina averted her eyes.

"I hope Ruby's alright out there somewhere," she said quietly.

Granny patted her hand a few times. It felt good, and not even a little scary. This was new. Perhaps it was worth exploring.

A horn sounded from among the trees, and everyone stirred.

"They're coming!"

Regina sprang to her feet.

For a moment she heard nothing but the rush of their own group as everyone moved to take up arms and get into position. Granny held her crossbow at the ready and scanned the valley briefly before she turned towards the forest. The attack was coming from there. Charming, Mulan, and Robin drew their swords. The Merry Men and the dwarfs created a human wall behind them, with a few paces between each of them. A little distance behind this barrier, Snow was nocking an arrow, and a few remaining Merry Men including the monk called Friar Tuck waited with their bows drawn. Hook and Neal stood either side of them, each carrying a sword, in case the attackers broke through to the archers.

A sinister rumble rose from among the trees. Joining the group of archers and Granny, Regina scanned the trees for the first enemies. A flash of yellow among the leaves, and a dozen men gushed out into the clearing, launching into an incomprehensible battle chant. They were giant and armed with massive clubs, but that was all Regina could make out before their charge broke on the defensive line headed by Robin, Mulan, and Charming. Then the two sides clashed and all turned into no more than a blur of swarming arms and legs and blades and bludgeons. Belle broke into a run towards the saddled horse tied at the opposite edge of the forest.

A second line broke out from the trees and ran onto them. Arrows swished in the air in an arch over the fighters' heads and flew at the newcomers, taking down half of them. Another two brutes went into a wild frenzy as their yellow clothes caught fire. Regina cackled and aimed another fireball. It was essential to vanquish as many as possible before the enemy reached their front line. The archers, Regina, and Granny could not effectively engage the ones already in close combat for fear of hitting one of their own.

The advancing men were stopped just before they reached the fighters - but only just. Meanwhile, twice the number had spilled out of the woods. Patches of bright yellow danced before her eyes like reflections of the sun on water as the battle continued. Arrows whizzed and blades rang in unrelenting tempo, and patches of grass had gone ablaze as those Regina's fireballs had hit struggled to put the flames out and failed miserably. But clubs crashed down in increasing numbers, sending splinters of wood flying. There were too many of them. They needed to get the enemy into that valley. But where was Belle?

Taking aim again, Regina felt a shock of exhaustion, and saw with horror that the flames in her palm wavered. Hurling no less than two simultaneous fireballs, Regina looked around frantically. Robin and Charming were holding their own against a bunch of attackers but the other swordsmen were slowly being pushed further back. One of the Merry Men staggered under a heavy blow and fell to the ground. Neal and Hook were busy keeping the archers safe by engaging the odd soldier who'd managed to get through the front line.

At last Regina located Belle. She had been cornered by two rogues, and was trying to fight them off with a quarterstaff. Mulan had jumped to her aid and knocked one of the brutes aside. Belle threw herself out of the way, but apparently something went wrong: a club rolled onto the grass as Belle yelped and clutched her ankle. She would never make it to that horse now.

Regina, on the other hand, saw a clear path before her - provided she blasted a few men out of the way, but she trusted herself to accomplish that much yet.

The decision was born in no time. A shock of energy shook the ground and a handful of yellow-clad soldiers rocketed skyward. Regina reached the nervous horse in a few heartbeats.

"Good girl," she addressed the grey in a calm voice as she fumbled with the knot. The horse raked the ground with a hoof and snorted. Fighting was something the mare was used to, so Regina guessed it must be the fire making her nervous. "We'll be out of here in a minute," she assured the horse, having finally dealt with the knot.

As soon as she was in the saddle, Regina felt a surge of confidence. This was something she was good at. Perhaps she was supposed to do this from the very beginning - not Belle, not someone else, only her.

Regina tugged at the reins to turn the horse around, and surveyed the battlefield briefly. If this was supposed to work, she needed to make them notice her leaving. Whether they would follow or not was another question. The heat of the battle should suffice to make them make a rash decision, but first she'd have to provoke them somehow, make herself a more attractive trophy than the rest of her group. Well, that should be no problem - antagonising people had never exactly been a problem for her.

The restless mare responded without hesitation to the sharp kick of Regina's boots, and shot forward. Regina steered her straight into the scrambling knot around Belle and Mulan, hurtling through them like a cannonball and leaving the yellow-shirts scattered and stunned.

Begging for her powers to oblige her one more time before failing her completely, Regina built up a blazing fireball with her free hand. The mare squealed in fright and shied away from the flames. Realising escape was impossible, she did what Regina had hoped for: she reared with a mighty scream, making Regina, who had only one hand clutching the reins, slip in the saddle. Heads turned at the sound and eyes grew wide. Holding on almost effortlessly, Regina threw her head back and laughed: mounted on a rearing, raging mare kicking the air with rock-hard hooves, she appeared to them an awe-inspiring black-clad sorceress, who threatened to send them all ablaze with the roaring flames sitting harmlessly on her palm.

"If you can't stand the heat, you should not play with fire!" she thundered. "Now, roast!"

With all her strength, she sent the giant ball flying over the heads of the dwarfs and royals and Merry Men. Red and yellow flames swept enemies away until the ball exploded into dozens of smaller fires and began to feed on the trees on the edge of the forest

Without hesitation, Regina spurred the mare into a gallop and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

><p><em>Thoughts on this? I don't have much experience with writing action, and there will be a lot of that in the next chapter, too, so I'm quite anxious to see how it all works out. As to the scene with Granny, it just had to be written, although I wasn't sure whether to leave it in in the end but just couldn't let it go.<em>

_What will happen to Regina now? Are you ready for the ride? ;)_


	7. Rhiannon Reborn

_As a means of thanks for all the views and reviews, here's a giant of a chapter for you while we all try to while away those last few hours before the show returns. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>There was no doubt in Regina's mind now that the enemy would follow.<p>

The grey, panicked by the flames, carried her with mind-blowing speed, zigzagging between trees and soldiers of yellow and black. Regina pulled back the reins a notch - it would be a long ride, and they needed to pace themselves well. As she hurtled through the narrow path, helmeted heads turned after her - she had succeeded. The growing racket of hooves on hard-packed ground only confirmed this: they were coming after her.

Regina concentrated all her senses on locating the passage to the entrance to the valley. There was a red gooseberry bush marking the hidden shortcut, but it would be tricky to see it in time at this speed. A club swayed at her, missing her by an inch. Regina weaved her way forward, straining her eyes for the passage. Could she have accidentally passed it already? Her stomach knotted at the thought. Then she saw a familiar-looking sentinel tree looming ahead, and splashes of red on green just beyond.

She tore through the shrubbery at full speed. Branches dug into her skin and ripped at her hair and clothes. Leaves obstructed her view and stung in her eyes. The mare slowed down, startled and protesting at the obstacles, but Regina kept urging her on, and the mare clearly wanted out of the bush anyway.

Angry voices trailed behind them, yelling invectives in some strange tongue. The horse craned at the ever-present greenery and whinnied in alarm. The voices were getting closer. Wood cracked and snapped under heavy clubs. Regina pushed back the rising apprehension and leaned over the horse's neck, patting her lightly, probing the mare's belly with her boots and talking to her in undertones. Slowly, they moved on. The branches thinned and revealed a deer-track. Regina spurred the horse into a trot, trying to avoid overhanging vegetation. Some thorn-covered branch swooped down on her, breaking the skin of her cheek. She barely felt anything.

Then, without warning, the forest came to an end and they were out in the open.

Regina could have whooped with joy - but they hadn't won yet.

Regina jerked the reins, sending the horse to the left, along the wall. At this point, the more distance she could put between herself and her pursuers the better. They would burst out of the the bushes any moment now, and then she would have a small army at her heels. Clubs coming down at her would be a reality soon enough but she'd rather avoid them until absolutely necessary - until coming at her would make these monstrous mercenaries easy targets for the party waiting at the top. Well, hopefully they were ready. Hopefully they had been able to handle the remaining attackers after she had lured the majority away.

A mighty crash followed the riders as they broke through the branches, and a raging battle roar announced their very clear intent: to hunt her down.

Regina was not afraid. The rapid flight of the horse seemed to be giving her wings. The wind painted her cheeks a deeper shade of pink, and strands of hair broke free from her restricting hairdo. Her fingers laced through the horse's silver mane. Her lips twitched, then a chuckle escaped her, and suddenly she broke into laughter - carefree like she hadn't known in ages. This was home.

But it would not do to lose herself entirely in the heat of the moment. _Not too close to the wall, but not too far either. _She needed to keep at a good shooting distance from the others perched on top of the ridge. They were still out of sight, but not for much longer.

Now and again, Regina would look over her shoulder and, with dismay at having her joyful ride disturbed, she'd even slow down once or twice when she thought she was losing them - that they were losing her. It would be most unpleasant if the Witch's henchmen chose to give up the chase and return for the others she'd left behind - everything would have been in vain and the group would no doubt suffer a horrible defeat.

A dozen riders had separated from the rest now and were getting closer,# while the large part of the army lagged behind. Regina searched the ridge above for a sign of a clearing, the glint of a sword or arrows swooping down into the valley. Surely she should be there any time now.

Glancing back again, her heart sank at the sight of a pair of pursuers barely two lengths of a horse behind. She had let them get too close. But the main army was still too far behind - would they leave the pursuit to the advancing handful and turn back? They couldn't afford to let that happen. So instead of launching her mare into full gallop, Regina merely spurred her on a little faster.

Then an arrow whizzed in the air and one of the brutes fell to the ground with a thud. Regina looked up and sighed in relief.

Finally, they had come in line with the clearing, and were now within shooting range. Another bout of arrows rained down into the valley, finding easy targets among the close-packed mass of enemy men. Two of her close followers fell back, wounded. Another three had met their end soon after. Good - someone understood the danger they were posing and was taking them down. Regina started breathing more freely.

However, the two riders closest to her were still gaining on her. Would an arrow find them soon enough or would she have to deal with them herself? In answer, three arrows came rushing through the air. Two hit their target, and the bay at Regina's heels ambled with the rider dangling from the saddle, an arrow stuck into his stomach and another one straight through his heart. The third arrow had missed, though, and a roar of mad rage from close behind made Regina shiver.

Men were falling in dozens, shrinking the army rapidly, but this one pursuer was more dangerous for the moment than all of them put together. There were no more arrows swishing by, however. Clearly they were now too close for the archers to dare chance another shot for fear of hitting Regina instead of the enemy. Her mind searched feverishly for a solution, and it stumbled across an obvious one.

Even as she let go of the reins with one had and made a fist, she knew it was for nothing. Indeed, the weak flare she was able to produce merely tickled her palm but there was barely enough force in it to hurt a fly. Magic seemed out of the question for the day.

And the man was now upon her, his chestnut head to head with her grey. He had lost his heavy club, possibly on purpose to ease his horse of the substantial weight. That meant he now had nothing to swing at her - except his thick, muscled, gauntleted arms. Before she had time to finish that thought, his fist came down at her head, missing her temple by a mere breadth of hair as she ducked. His helmet was knocked off in the wild attempt.

A single eye stared back at her, perched in the middle of the creature's forehead.

It only took one well-aimed blow. The Cyclops roared in pain as blood gushed out of his unseeing eye, and then he was gone, left behind by Regina's dashing mare.

Regina was jubilant. Magic had failed her, which was as alarming as it had been every time before. Ever since she had first learnt to use magic, she felt desperately vulnerable without it. But this time it was different. For the first time in ages she didn't feel magic was her only weapon, her only asset. Now she was able to do something useful without resorting to the thing that had started her on the path of darkness and was making it so difficult to leave that path. Heavens, she had just knocked an enemy out!

The army at her back had shrunk to less than half its original size by now, and she had earned herself no more than a few scratches back in the woods.

With a gleeful laugh, she spurred the mare on.

* * *

><p>Arrows whizzed past Robin's ear while he stood idly with his empty quiver propped against a rock. Next to him, Snow White had just fired the last of her arrows, too. There was nothing to do but wait for the new batch to be brought - he'd already sent the youngest of his men, swift-footed Much the Miller's Son.<p>

Robin's eyes darted back down into the valley.

The Queen and her grey were no more than a smudge of black and white as they dashed along the valley with the yellow-clad pursuers at their heels. Perched on their dark horses, the brutes strangely reminded Robin of bees, and the drumming of hooves could have been the buzz of a swarm.

But now that there was no shooting for him to do, it wasn't the enemy Robin was looking at.

When he'd first noticed the Queen on top of the rearing grey, wielding a giant fireball, his brain had simply shut down for a moment. Then the ball had broken the knot of attackers, and suddenly they'd started to retreat - or so he'd thought, until he caught the grey speeding away straight into the enemy-ridden woods, carrying the Queen with her.

The remaining men had been too demoralised by what they had witnessed to put up much of a fight. Their corpses littered the grass, and with them a handful of their own - all of them Robin's friends, the loss of whom had shrunk the already humble band of Merry Men further. There had been little time to mourn and plenty of wounds to attend to in the short time they'd guessed it would take the Queen to surface in the valley below - hopefully unharmed and with the unsuspecting enemy at her back.

But the wait had been long and nerve-wrecking. Positions had been assigned and quivers filled and set ready for fire, and still there had been no sign of the Queen.

"She'll be fine," Snow had said firmly, and no one had challenged her.

Then the Queen had finally emerged from behind a twist of the valley, with the enemy indeed giving a wild chase.

At Robin's order, arrows had been nocked, drawn and released. He had started by aiming to eliminate the riders gaining on the Queen. Much to his surprise, that had seemed to be Snow's first concern as well, and Granny's crossbow had followed the same pattern. Together, they had taken down all but one brute. Robin's stomach had jolted as the remaining creature had swung his arm at the Queen, and he could already see her hurtling to the ground - but instead, it had been the attacker himself to get the worst of it in just a blink of an eye.

Robin shook his head unwittingly. She certainly was an impressive sight, negotiating the harsh terrain with incredible ease, as if she weren't even aware of obstacles. If there was any fear involved at all, it didn't show.

A new couple of riders had separated from the huddle of the army and began to give chase. Robin flexed his fingers. Where was the boy with the new batch of arrows already?

As if on cue, Much finally arrived, bent under the weight of dozens of quivers. Robin nocked, drew, and released, nocked, drew, and released. A brute fell, and another one. Three more took their place. Robin cursed, nocked, drew, and released. The two remaining riders fell back, and he rejoiced - it seemed they were giving up. Beside him, Snow's arm dropped and she moaned.

Robin followed her terrified stare. His heart sank.

There was a ditch glinting with water on the far left of the valley stretching as far as the eye could see, followed immediately by a muddy uphill bank with a rock wall on top and an abrupt drop shortly afterwards - and the Queen was heading straight towards it. Could she not be aware of the obstacle yet? Was she actually going to try and jump across? Was such a feat even possible?

Arrows were no longer raining down into the valley. Everyone had ceased shooting. Belle's mouth hung open, and Snow kept muttering something under her breath. Everyone else merely stood huddled on the edge of the ridge, watching in awe as the scene unfolded below.

The grey tore forward without a sign of hesitation. Three yellow dots shot forward in pursuit. If the Queen were to fall luckily enough to survive, they would collect her - and make sure she didn't live. Robin chased the thought away. He glanced at Snow, whose face was now rearranged into a stubborn look of blind faith.

The Queen approached the ditch at a neck-breaking speed. She must have seen it by now. As a result of the long and tiring dash, the horse had gotten longer in her gallop. That wasn't a good thing before such a sequence of obstacles. Just as the worry nestled itself into Robin's mind, the Queen pulled at the reins and the horse bunched her canter together. Just in time, too, for now the ditch was right in front of them. Robin held his breath.

The grey sprang, soared over the wet ditch, and landed on the narrow grassy bank in a single leap.

There was a collective gasp up on the ridge that Robin barely noticed - this was far from over. The hind toes of the mare had barely touched the very edge of the bank when the front legs rose up in the air again and over the rough stone wall. The horse bounced off the fence and landed just beyond.

Now the Queen would have noticed the drop - or so Robin prayed. He caught himself wishing with all his heart they had enough left in them to master this last but no less dangerous hurdle. Anything could go wrong - the Queen might see it too late, be too slow to react, or the horse might panic and shy back at the prospect of a blind leap into thin air.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the grey rose up in the air again. Simultaneously, the Queen lifted herself off the saddle, leaning slightly forward. As they reached the peak of the jump and began to descend, she sank back down into the saddle and leaned back, balancing herself against the impact. She slipped the reins, allowing the horse freedom to stretch its neck forward. Globs of grass flew from the horse's hoof as it hit the ground with the Queen perfectly upright and firm in the saddle.

A joyful whoop went up, fists punched the air victoriously, and someone laughed.

Robin felt a rock fall off his chest but he kept his eyes down, anxious for the Witch's men's reaction.

The Queen's success seemed to boost the courage - or foolhardiness - of a dozen yellow-shirts, who now approached the obstacle at a ridiculously fast pace.

There was no way they could make it - they were abysmal riders blinded by hubris. Indeed, what followed was a tangle of limbs as arms, legs, and even necks broke on various parts of the obstacle. Out of a dozen men, only three made it through, and even those only just - one got through the ditch and the bounce but toppled forward upon landing the drop fence, the other two scrambled through the bounce and the drop fence on arms and knees. Each nursing at least a bruised arm or leg, they followed the unaffected Queen and her grey at a jog, leaving their maimed or rebelling horses behind.

Meanwhile, the grey had carried the Queen further away from them, until they reached the end of the valley and disappeared into the trees.

A flight of arrows went up and into the tarrying crowd of yellow and black. The three lucky pursuers beyond the ditch were now out of range - Robin had learnt that the hard way after releasing a dozen arrows in their direction and coming short every time. The rest of the army, decimated and demoralised by heavy losses, swerved and rode away along the ditch to find another way across.

"Let them go," Charming said, "they're finished anyway, they're no threat to anyone now."

"At least until the Witch raises a new force," one of the dwarfs said grumpily as they watched the last of the crushed army disappear on the horizon.

But what about the handful that had managed to cross after the Queen? She still was not safe. And there was nothing they could do about it.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen and still there was no sign of her.<p>

"Who knows what the way back is like," Charming reasoned with a distraught Snow White for the hundredth time. "She probably just decided to find a place to stay the night and return here by daylight."

"She's a tough woman, Regina," Granny growled drowsily with the crossbow hugged to her side. "And she's one heck of a rider, too."

Regina. So Robin knew the Queen's name now - she had never bothered to introduce herself as anything other than the Queen, but Robin had heard everyone else refer to her by the name lately. It suited her well, though the actual meaning was somewhat - well, peculiar under the circumstances.

Regina was indeed a great rider, one of the best Robin had ever laid eyes on - if not the best. That had been a stupendous reveal, and not only for Robin. Only Snow White had been unsurprised, and Charming had appeared to have been vaguely aware as well, but the rest of them had all marvelled at the brilliant piece of horsemanship they had witnessed. They still marvelled, as it was.

"I would never have made it," Belle spoke from the shadows. "That ride. It was foolish of me to think I could."

"No one else would probably have made it," Mulan admitted in all fairness. "That jump was...truly admirable."

"There are enemies out there," Snow sighed, "three that we know of, and who knows how many more that we don't."

Robin chose to avoid Snow's look. He shared her concern - the forest was treacherous with potential enemies lurking in the shadows, and skilled rider that Regina was, that might not be enough to escape this time.

"So, I hear you're a bard of sorts," Charming turned to Alan-a-Dale, who was in fact a minstrel. "Perhaps you could sing for us?"

Alan struck the strings of his lute and commenced to sing a song of chivalrous love.

Charming kept his eyes on Snow, and Robin wondered if he had initiated a change of topic purely for his wife's sake. Snow had seemed genuinely upset at Regina's prolonged absence. Yet they had once been mortal enemies. What a curious relationship the two women seemed to have. From all the small clues he had gathered, Robin guessed their history had to be as fascinating as it was complicated.

He left the fire to get a fresh wineskin of water and was surprised to be joined by none other than Snow just a moment later.

"What do you think? Will she be alright out there?" she asked straight-out in a tone that had aimed at casualness but fell short.

Robin didn't see the point of false assurances, so he gave an honest answer. "I hope so. Granny Lucas is right, the Queen isn't foiled easily."

"I should know that," she said with a smile that, to his surprise, contained some actual good-humour despite the sad glint in her eyes.

Curiosity got the best of him. "You don't seem like sworn enemies to me," he probed.

"Oh, well, we..." Snow hesitated, looking into the distance. "I don't really know what we are right now. Regina is... It's complicated. We've been working together recently," she said and shook her head as Robin offered her water. "It's not been easy, and heaven knows sometimes we've been in each other's hair - literally, at one point." She actually chuckled at that. The mental image he was getting made Robin smirk. "But we're trying, I guess," she shrugged. Then, having changed her mind, she reached for the wineskin.

"Well, it seems to be going quite well," Robin assured her. Then he added with a lopsided smile: "You certainly seem friendlier than the Queen and I have been - I guess we might have started off on the wrong foot." He hadn't expected for it to come across so despondent, and now wondered why that was.

Snow gave him a searching look, and seemed to consider for a moment. "She's difficult like that," she nodded eventually, "but she's also capable of great kindness. You must understand she's very unhappy - especially now, after what happened, after losing her-"

Robin must have looked as puzzled as he felt because Snow stopped mid-sentence and shrank back in alarm.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"About...oh. Oh my," Snow stuttered. "I thought she told you. But of course she wouldn't have. Robin, I wish I could - maybe I could - but no."

He didn't quite understand the inner fight she seemed to have landed herself in but waited, hoping for at least some kind of explanation.

"No, I can't," she said with more resolve this time. "Robin," she besought him instead, "just be patient with her. She can be a handful, but... I think you should-" Snow glanced at him and continued with a slight smile, "we should all give her a chance."

* * *

><p>Robin awoke from his light slumber. Dawn was painting the horizon a pale pink but the clearing was still just an assembly of shadows moving around as Friar Tuck was handing out breakfast. It had been agreed the previous night that they would set off at daybreak in search for Regina. The time had almost come.<p>

Hook was polishing the article of the same name, while Charming sharpened his sword with a whetstone. Mulan was shaking a yawning Belle awake. Snow, on the other hand, had probably not slept a wink judging by the way her eyes were drooping. His Merry Men were good to go, though, and were loading the last items onto the two horses they still possessed.

And just when everything was ready for departure, the overhanging branches of the giant sentinel flagging the path parted, and through walked Regina leading the grey by the reins.

She was slightly dishevelled and sported a few scratches but otherwise looked as regal as ever.

All previous buzz had died out and the clearing went dead silent.

"So much for a warm welcome," Regina said.

It was nothing if not sarcastic, and Robin's spirits lifted at the familiarity of her voice. At the same time he realised everyone was still gaping at her unashamedly.

Then Snow made a sudden move, and next moment she was throwing her arms around Regina, who seemed entirely too shocked to even protest at first. As she was locked in the embrace, however, a sharp cry escaped her, and Snow sprang back in alarm.

"Are you injured?"

Regina had clutched her shoulder on instinct but rapidly removed her hand now.

"I'm fine," she retorted with unnecessary abruptness. "Although I would certainly not say no to breakfast."

Regina's bluntness seemed to finally break the charm: suddenly all eyes were eager to look anywhere but the Queen's direction. Tuck offered her an entire loaf of bread and a tankard of ale, the latter of which Regina simply shrugged off. Someone had bolstered a log for her to sit on and Alan offered his cape in the morning chill, which Regina refused just as poignantly as she had done with the ale or any sort of treatment of her injury - because Robin was sure there was one, if not more. He also had an inkling Alan would soon be gracing them all with songs about Rhiannon the Reborn, or something along those lines. Snow had nodded off resting against a tree. Well, they were in no hurry for the moment.

Further off, Little John was tending to the grey Regina had led rather than ridden back. That gave Robin an idea. He waved John away as discreetly as possible, waited for Regina to finish eating, then asked her to show him what injuries the horse had suffered. To make sure he wouldn't be rejected, he suggested to meet by a nearby stream, where he could wash and bandage her - suggesting the horse, of course, even though he had something else in mind, too.

* * *

><p>"You want me to what?" her voice rose at the thief's outrageous request.<p>

Regina had refused to listen to her gut, and now she was paying for it.

She had agreed, very reluctantly, to meet Robin Hood by the stream after breakfast, only because she wanted to make sure the poor horse, battered and exhausted, would be properly tended. She hadn't slept three hours at night, and out of that not an hour in a row, and desired no more than a piece of hard ground and a coarse blanket. Instead, she was stuck here with him.

The man seemed utterly unfazed by her aggressive tone.

"Look," he said and continued to wash down the trembling grey in the stream, standing up to his calves in cold water, "either keep it on or take it off, just as long as I'm able to treat your wound."

Regina placed her hand on the mare's nostrils and stroked her lightly. The animal was still showing signs of stress when all she deserved was plenty of rest and good food. But first her bruises had to be tended to.

"I don't need you to do that for me," she said coldly, whereas in fact her blood was boiling. Sometimes her own self-restraint startled her - perhaps because so often she would spiral completely out of control. "I can heal myself with magic."

"But you haven't," he said. The man was not even looking at her, and his absolute calm unnerved her. Hers was fake but his seemed real - how could she contend with that?

"It's nothing," she tried again.

"Alright," he said without a hint of passion.

Was he really giving up so easily? She could hardly believe it, and felt her anger flare quite irrationally. Wasn't this what she'd been trying to achieve?

"Then why don't you help me out here?" he gestured at a particularly nasty bruise around the mare's knee.

Regina's sense told her not to but, like so often, she dismissed the thought and reached to grasp the horse by the leg. A sharp stab of pain jolted through her and she staggered. It was all she could do not to yelp and keep herself from losing balance and crashing into the water.

He gave her a quick glance but made no move to help her. What could one expect from an arrogant bandit anyway?

"It's going to get worse," he had the nerve to say, putting a stretch of cloth over the horse's wound. It turned out he could manage perfectly well by himself. "I guess it already has, hasn't it?" he turned to her abruptly, catching her off-guard.

Regina whipped around to hide her face from those prying eyes. She said nothing, resolved at first to ignore him, to simply walk away. But her shoulder hurt, and it hurt bad - worse than it had the day before, worse even than earlier that morning. Damn him for being right about this, too. This was going to be more humiliating than accepting a cup of tea.

As she spread her heavily stricken coat on a rock and sat on it, she couldn't help watching his calm, confident movements as he continued to wash and bandage the mare. The horse seemed to have warmed up to him, even though it came from Charming's stables, not his. Horses generally had good instincts when it came to people. Well, it's not like Hood was about to hurt it, so that was accurate so far.

Sitting there with only a black strapless corset on, waiting for him to kindly pay her attention, felt demeaning and unnerving, and she had half a mind to rise and leave. She was deep in thought trying to come up with an adequately scathing remark in lieu of a farewell when he finished with the horse and turned to her.

Regina's face rearranged into a defiant expression, but the man's features also changed for a brief moment. She was well aware she probably looked alluring even with bits of twigs in her hair and dust on her skin, but she felt everything but beautiful at that moment. Did he find her attractive or just pathetic?

The urgency with which he averted his eyes didn't tell her much.

Robin Hood rummaged in a bag with his back to her. "So now the secret's out, perhaps you would care to share how you became such a skilful rider."

"Did Snow White tell you that?" she spat with contempt without a second thought.

Whether he found the accusation strange or merely thought she had spoken out of malice, he didn't respond to the jibe. "She didn't need to. We saw it with our own eyes."

"I prefer not to be stared at." Regina looked away as Robin set down beside her a flask, a patch of cotton, and new batch of linen bandages.

Robin looked at her strangely, as though he had some kind of a reason to not believe her. Eventually he seemed to decide to let it go.

"They mean no ill," he said as he dipped the cotton patch into the contents of the flask. "Quite the contrary – everyone's rather impressed."

The fact that it felt like balm for her soul was deeply disturbing. "Even you?" she mocked. But in reality she only wished she'd feel the contempt she was working so hard to wake.

"Especially me," he glanced at her - she hadn't expected that, and now their eyes met, and it got warm. "I had no idea you were such an accomplished rider."

Regina searched for something in that piercing look - ridicule, accusation, anger - something familiar. She found nothing, and her eyes dropped to the ground.

"You don't know me," she said and heard the faintest hitch in her own voice. It terrified her.

"You're right. I don't." He was actually admitting it. That was new. "Perhaps that's not entirely my fault though."

She raised an eyebrow.

Robin was busy cleaning the nasty bruise at her shoulder now and didn't respond for a while. The angry black-and-purple bruise was a result of the combined effort of a gnarled branch, a jutting out rock, and an incredibly stubborn Regina, who had refused to search for another way and insisted on crashing through all obstacles - but she most certainly wasn't going to tell him that. There was no open wound, and the disinfectant didn't burn at all. The slightest touch, however, any kind of contact with the livid mark, was enough to put her in agony. So why wasn't she feeling anything at the light dabs of cotton this...insufferable man was covering the skin in?

"You don't seem to be exactly willing to let people get to know you," he said eventually with the most fleeting of glances, but she still felt his eyes burning holes into her.

A sudden weariness overcame her. "Why would I?" she asked reproachfully. "People hardly seem to care anyway. They're perfectly happy with their own idea of who I am."

"I have to agree. People indeed fail to see beneath the surface at times. We like to put labels on others. Evil Queen." Regina fought back a shudder. Surely this was provocation. What was he trying to do? "Thief." He fixed her with his eyes. "Bandit."

She felt the sting in his words. The man had a nerve. Yet he also had a point. How infuriating. Regina strove to dismiss a pang of guilt. It was new and very unpleasant, and she took up the first weapon she found at hand - she didn't have to search far.

"Is that what your men were doing when they thought I was out of earshot - calling me names? I'm not blind." She had heard them whispering behind her back. It was always the same. People were suspicious, gossiped, and judged. Even when she did nothing to deserve dismissal it would always be the same.

Much to her dismay and puzzlement, he chuckled, and a wide smile remained on his face.

"Ah, that. Now that is an interesting story."

He had these dimples in his cheeks when he smiled like that. They were incredibly irritating.

Robin pushed the open flask into her hands and reached for the bandage, but he kept her eyes on her face as he said: "There seems to be a rumour going round according to which Rhiannon, the great queen and horse goddess of old legend, paid us a visit yesterday."

"That's ridiculous." An ancient horse goddess who also happened to be a queen come down to earth? If he thought he could pull her leg like this, he was mistaken. But he didn't seem to be mocking her. She just didn't know what to think of this man.

"But kind of nice?" he inquired.

Regina felt his eyes on her even as she stared into the green twilight. He had started fixing the bruise with the strip of linen, and she had to set her teeth to keep herself from flinching or crying out in pain.

"Mostly ridiculous," she said through gritted teeth.

He grinned from ear to ear. "So you admit there's a bit of nice."

She refused to say another word - supposedly due to the anguish of pain, when in fact she had run out of arguments momentarily. This horrible...person was able to keep up with her sharp tongue and wind her up by staying impossibly calm, yet so clearly not one bit hostile that every time she wanted to lash out she knew she would be making an utter fool of herself. So she resolved to say as little as possible, hoping he would finish soon.

After the shoulder, however, he proceeded to look at her face. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and came to rest just beneath her hairline.

"Talking might help take your mind off the pain."

"I'm not in pain." It hurt like hell and her head started pounding again. Why couldn't the wretched man leave her alone already?

"I had an accident as a child," he said after a while.

Instead of pressuring her to talk, he had decided to offer up something about himself. Despite herself, Regina caught herself listening, hardly aware of the cool sensation of the thin cream left behind by his fingertips.

"I was run down by a carriage," Robin continued. "It took me ages to pluck up the courage to mount a horse after that. I'm glad I did, though. They're magnificent creatures, independent yet loyal."

That resonated within her deeply.

"I was four when I got my first pony. When I first fell off, my father told me the only way to defeat fear is to face it."

"A clever man."

"One of his best moments," Regina said with a smile that died on her lips unformed at the sense of loss. She quickly redirected her thoughts. "I loved everything about riding," she reminisced. "The wind in my face, the world just rushing by, the freedom… I spent my happiest times around horses."

"Why the past tense?" Robin asked quietly.

"I hadn't been on horseback for years. Not since…" Regina swallowed. "...I'd cast the curse."

"Are there no stables in your world?"

No, she didn't want to go down this road. Not now, not with him, not at all.

Robin was watching her, and she wanted to turn away from those eyes because maybe, just maybe, they were seeing too much, too well. Or maybe not - he seemed lost, confused by her unaccountable distress.

Then he turned to examine the long gash in her cheek.

"This might burn a little."

She hissed at the contact of alcohol with the half-closed scratch.

He retracted his arm at the sound. "I'm truly sorry. I'm being as gentle as I can."

"I'm fine," she shot back.

She wouldn't let him see her vulnerable, even though that was what she felt - and more so with every time his fingers brushed her skin as he was tending to the angry red line.

At the repentant look on his face, she added before she could stop herself: "I'm fine." This time there was no edge t her voice - the words tumbled out reassuring, almost gentle.

"It's just a scratch," Robin said with a finishing touch. "It should leave no trace. I'm glad you didn't come to any serious harm."

He went to return the flask into the bag and dispose of the cotton patch. Regina ran her fingers over her face. Somehow she still felt his touch linger, even though it wasn't really there. All the same, she breathed more freely now that it was over, and her spirits lifted.

"It seems your reputation as a good shot is not entirely unfounded," she said.

Robin turned. "Are my ears deceiving me? Was that a compliment?"

She didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Let's not get carried away," she grinned. "I'm merely giving credit where credit is due."

"So am I." The twinkle was gone and he approached her again. "You rode beautifully, but there's more than that. You saved lives today."

She realised she wasn't ready for this as soon as he said it. Not now, anyway. Perhaps it was true, perhaps she deserved some recognition of what she had done - but for some reason, she couldn't handle it right now.

"Make no mistake," she said softly, "I sure won't make one…not again."

She might have been foolish enough to think a few good deeds could turn the tide, but she'd been cured of that absurd notion in Storybrooke. She remembered only too well how a good deed was equally likely to gain indifference as appreciation - as far as she was concerned one could never know which it would be. Even with everyone acting civil now, she was half-prepared for things to go back to animosity any moment.

"I'm still the Evil Queen."

"You weren't her today." Robin pierced her with those eyes again and she fought against it with all her might. "Perhaps you don't need to be her tomorrow, either. Perhaps in time you wouldn't even miss her anymore."

Did he really imagine it was so easy? Did he imagine she hadn't thought about that, that she hadn't tried it? Who was he to talk to her like this anyway? What did he know?

"Stop," she said icily. "I am the Evil Queen."

Those startling blue eyes were giving her a close look, one that seemed to reach the depths of her soul, no matter how hard a look she was giving him, or how tightly pursed her lips were, or that she had closed her face to all emotion other than contempt and coolness. He saw right through her.

To her surprise, and perhaps the tiniest grain of disappointment, he chose not to pursue the topic.

"As you say, Your Majesty," he said simply.

Without further ado, he went to get the calmly grazing grey mare and led her along the path to camp. Before the greenery swallowed him, he turned back to her again:

"If you would tell Regina it was an honour to make her acquaintance today. I would be pleased to see her again."

He had never called her by her first name before. Out of all the things he'd said, that was the thing that stood out the most.


	8. Scaling the Walls

_Guys, this one's turned out rather angsty, but there are bits of fluff in between. Thanks for your ongoing support!_

* * *

><p>One would think feet would get used to travelling miles a day. One would think, but as far as Regina could tell this wasn't the case - at least not yet. She wished they had claimed a pair of horses - apart from the footache, she had grown fond of the valiant grey. But the few horses the group had were more needed elsewhere.<p>

Regina hadn't really expected to find herself on the road again so soon, nor with just Robin Hood for company. The Charmings could always be counted on to butt in, even in less justifiable situations, and their heated point that a larger force should be launched against the Witch had at first been met with general agreement. Until Robin had stepped up with counterarguments, stressing the Witch's forces were operating outside of the Dark Palace now. Snow and Mulan had been the first to catch on, arguing that however scattered the population of the Enchanted Forest, they needed to save what could still be saved after the Curse, the ogres, and most recently the Witch.

Maps had been drawn in the sand, many a discussion had ensued, and eventually it had been decided that Regina and Robin would continue their quest to free the captured children alone. The Merry Men, along with the dwarfs, who knew the forest well, would scout and track enemy movement, while the rest of the group headed by the Charmings would press for Aurora and Phillip's palace, seeking their help to organise a force to strike down this vicious Witch.

Robin had fallen back and was now examining the ground at the fork in the road they had just arrived at. He'd do that once in a while, which was convenient for Regina to rest a little. Mostly he'd just shake his head to suggest he found nothing of note and they'd carry on, but this time he took a good while crouched over the dirt path, and eventually rose with a frown.

"Did you find anything?"

Talking to him had become easier and more difficult at the same time now that he'd seen a more vulnerable side to her. All the same, she was glad for the change in atmosphere, and the prolonged silences - despite the easing of tension she still did not feel chatty - weren't oppressive in character as they had been before.

He didn't meet her eye but scanned the shrubbery thoroughly instead.

"I'm not sure," he mumbled. "We'd better be on our guard."

The forest thickened, and what little light managed to get through the dense vegetation was painting everything green. It became hard to proceed on the narrow, barely visible path now, and thorns and branches enveloped them from all sides. Despite the forewarning, however, they met no one and nothing for the upcoming miles.

"Someone's been here," Robin spoke under his breath just as her vigilance had begun to waver. She could barely hear him for the rustle of leaves and the crunch of their steps as he added: "Stay close."

his words irked her a little - it wasn't as though she was about to wander off. She could take care of herself, and definitely wasn't stupid enough to give them away anyway.

After another half a mile of wading through unyielding overgrowth, the path broadened a notch, even though they were still treading on weeds and vines. Robin sniffed. Then Regina smelled it, too: a waft of sickly sweet, pungent air growing ever thicker. The smell became more oppressive with each new step, and worry began to creep into her heart. The disgusted face of Little John swam before her eyes briefly.

Robin halted so abruptly Regina could barely stop herself from crashing into him. He let out a sharp gasp. A fine dust invaded her nostrils and choked her throat, and a fleeting moment of dread later she chanced a peek over Robin's shoulder. The sight made her skin crawl.

They had come upon a small clearing hidden in the heart of the forest with a dozen or so hovels crammed onto it - except they weren't there anymore. What had once been a place of retreat now lay in ruin. Blackened remnants of chipped wood stuck out from the charred grass at odd places. Hardly a wall remained standing, hardly a beam intact. A blanket of ashes covered the lifeless hamlet gone to eternal rest.

An ash particle floated on the wind and landed on Regina's forearm, cool and wrinkled.

"Wh- where is everyone?" she whispered.

There were no bodies as far as she could tell but perhaps she just didn't really want to see. There had been another village once, a bigger, more prosperous one, reduced to ashes and a pile of corpses lying sprawled one across another... Robin tore his gaze from the desolation before them and turned to her. Maybe it was her voice or her face that betrayed her, or probably both - either way, Robin made a hasty reply.

"There was no one," he said softly with his eyes fixed on her. "I know the place. It had been abandoned for ages.

Thank heavens. A few empty, dilapidated shacks were little casualty. It was time to pull herself together.

"Then why did she have it burned down?" she asked, and heard her voice return back to normal with a sense of accomplishment.

"I don't know," he said, surveying the ruins. "A warning, maybe." He stepped onto the clearing, immediately stirring up a cloud of fine black powder. "Or the disgruntled remnants of a defeated army unleashing their anger."

Regina followed, trying to tread carefully. There was something unholy about disturbing the peace of this place, even though they had only been empty buildings. As they made their way through the rubble, Regina recognised a household item here and there: a melted tin cup, a smashed mirror, the partially consumed back of a rough-hewn chair. Twisted blades of tools disfigured by immense heat lay in piles of shapeless metal.

She struggled to look forward, to direct her thoughts elsewhere. There was no point tarrying. They had a mission to fulfil.

"We'll cross the borders soon," she said. "Then we'll be in the Witch's domain." Her kingdom. Somehow, Regina couldn't bring herself to say it. It had been hers once, but now it felt alien - in many ways, it always had.

Robin froze mid-step, and so did she. The birdsong had come to an abrupt end. Everything was calm - too calm.

* * *

><p>Endless moments passed with the two of them lying in wait behind a tumbledown wall - what remained of the only remotely well-preserved one. Not a leaf stirred. The absolute silence was a strain on Robin's ears, and no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he couldn't penetrate the surrounding thicket.<p>

He sensed movement to his left.

"Regina," he warned, putting an arm out to stop her. "Something's not right."

Regina nodded, but slipped past him anyway. Robin pushed back a sigh: could anyone ever be so incredibly stubborn? He nocked an arrow and stepped out after her, holding his bow at the ready. Dusk was descending upon them, and Regina's dark hair and garments stood out against the settling shade.

The dogwood bush quivered. Robin drew the bow.

"Regina." He needed her to get out of the arrow's way, and he hoped she'd understand and, for once, not protest. She stepped aside, and Robin drew level with her. The bush quivered again. A rustle came from behind them, and he sensed Regina whip around. The flicker of light at the corner of his eye told him she was ready and wielding her trusty weapon - the magic fireball. But ready for what, exactly?

The answer came almost immediately. A crack of wood later, Robin found himself looking into the bloodshot eyes of an overgrown beast of brownish-grey with a bushy tail and a foaming mouth.

The wolf bared its teeth at him just as another two emerged at his side. They wagged their tails in excitement of the forthcoming clash, growling in chorus. Leaves rustled and Robin saw even more pairs of eyes glaring at him. There was no time to lose - the pack wanted blood, and they were to be their prey.

Well, not if Robin had anything to say about it.

He took aim and released the arrow, and the wolf fell in a brownish-grey heap. A yelp from behind told him Regina didn't idle about either.

"Save your energy for later," he called as he nocked another arrow. "Just keep them away from us while I take them down." Who knew what other dangers still lay ahead - situations where they might not be able to do without magic. This time he believed they could handle the wolves without it.

Somewhat to his surprise, Regina concurred. Robin nocked, drew, aimed, and released, then repeated the process again and again. It was like the valley again, except this time they were in a much less favourable position. But the wolves were falling one after the other, lifeless heaps with arrows through their necks and blood seeping into their shaggy coats.

A blow to the back of his knee threw Robin off-balance. He turned to look and felt a bloodied arrow-shaft grazing his thigh. He dropped the bow and, grabbing the arrow he had just been about to loose with both hands, he stabbed the tenacious beast with all his strength, plunging the arrow through its open snout right up to the feathers. He hissed in pain as he felt teeth tearing his flesh, but he knew it was only a flesh wound. The wolf crumbled at his feet with one eye staring vacantly into space. A sickening smell of charred meat rose in the air as it lay with its burn marks exposed.

Robin picked up his bow and retrieved another arrow. Everything was quiet, except for his own laboured breathing, and Regina's.

Thirteen wolves now lay dead upon the ash-covered ground, their blood-soaked coats almost blending in with the greyness of the charred clearing.

Then a fourteenth bounded out from behind the trees. Robin's arrow missed it by an inch as the wolf leapt into the air and knocked Regina to the ground, pinning her down with its front paws and baring its teeth in threat. Robin drew his sword and launched forward, praying he wouldn't be too late, praying the beast would not tear Regina's throat out before he even got there. He raised his arm and swung the sword, ready to deliver a fatal blow, when he heard Regina's startled cry.

"Stop!"

The wolf wasn't hurting her - yet - but was snarling mere inches from Regina's face. It had to be fright speaking - surely Regina couldn't have meant him. But in that brief moment of hesitation, the wolf turned and growled at Robin.

Regina scrambled backwards, and Robin raised the sword again.

"No, stop!" Regina yelled, knocking the sword out of his hand with an invisible blast of magic. "Both of you!"

The wolf glowered at Robin with alert yellow eyes. Robin took a step back and his hand flew to his belt. He still had a dagger and was ready to use it. Then the wolf's eyes darted to Regina, and Robin followed its gaze. Regina lashing out was what he expected, and Regina cowering in fright, even, would have been at least understandable - but the way the scene unfolded was utterly bizarre.

We don't Regina rose and held her arms out to the wolf. "Now, relax, and nobody need get hurt, Ruby," she addressed the beast. "It's you, isn't it?"

The wolf tilted its head and pricked its ears. To Robin's utter astonishment, it gave a small whine.

"Your hood - where is it?" Regina asked, brandishing a strip of bright red cloth. "It's not wolfstime now, you shouldn't be like this anyway." The wolf's tail clamped down until it eventually rested between its hind legs. Recognition flashed through Regina's eyes, and anger took its place. "It was the Witch, wasn't it?"

The wolf whined again, the sound smoothly going over into a wail that sounded almost human. What the hell was happening here? Could the wolf understand? It seemed as though Regina was actually having a conversation with the animal, as crazy as that sounded even just in his mind.

"I can try a counter-curse," Regina said after a moment's consideration, "but you must be compliant."

The wolf backed away, snapping its teeth at her. Robin's grip on the dagger tightened. But the look Regina threw him stopped him from going any further.

"Look, Miss Lucas - Ruby," she sighed, approaching the wolf "I know we haven't been exactly friendly, but it seems we're on the same side now." The wolf made no further threats, but took another step back from her all the same. A bead of sweat trickled down Robin's face. Regina swallowed and her face softened. "Besides, your grandmother is worried sick about you."

Grandmother? Could this possibly mean...? No, surely not. Unless...

The wolf whimpered, bowed its head, and made a tentative move towards her. Robin felt a flash of relief - Regina had succeeded in luring the wolf closer again. Then worry returned with renewed intensity - they were dangerously close, and if anything went wrong...

Regina seemed to search her mind for a while, then slowly raised her hand and drew an elaborate pattern in the air. Where her fingers had traced the dark, a faint glow materialised, a deep crimson that slowly spread, until it engulfed the shaking wolf completely. For a moment, the wolf was out of sight; then the glow began to fade.

The wolf was gone. The shape of a woman had taken its place, crouching on the ground. What sorcery was this? The blade in his hand felt strangely useless now, and he looked to Regina. She seemed to have an inkling of what was happening, whereas he had none. But she wasn't looking his way. Instead, she stepped to the woman and, after a moment's hesitation, offered a hand to help her up. The woman appeared equally hesitant to accept it, but she did eventually, and stood before them rubbing her forehead.

"Thanks," she muttered to Regina.

Regina's eyes narrowed, then she nodded.

Robin couldn't take it any longer - words flew out of his mouth while his brain struggled for understanding.

"What is going on here? How did- how did the Witch do this? How did you-?" he addressed Regina.

"I'm a werewolf," the woman said wearily. Her long hair hung limp and tangled and her face looked gaunt. A starved werewolf, Robin thought stupidly. "But like Regina said, I'm only supposed to turn at full moon."

"Why would the Witch care to change that?" Regina cut in.

The woman - Ruby - shook her head. "Can't say. This pack," she looked at the dead monsters scattered across the clearing, "was part of her army. As for me..." she shrugged, "maybe she thought it'd be amusing to set me against my own." A triumphant glint appeared in her tired eyes, and she lifted her head. "She didn't know I'd learnt to control the wolf though."

"Good for you," Robin said, scratching his head, before Regina could answer, "but why on earth would you attack us then?"

"I panicked," said Ruby. She glanced at Regina and rubbed her hands as she continued. "Maybe it's the clothes - you look...well, you know," she said, and Robin thought she seemed a little ashamed and maybe a tad remorseful. Then her face brightened a little. "You've talked to Granny?" she entreated hopefully. "Is she alright? And Snow? Everyone?"

Regina smiled a half-smile. "All fine. You'll find them in Aurora and Phillip's palace. Can you get there?"

Robin understood the doubtful note in Regina's voice - Ruby looked exhausted and unnerved, perhaps she wasn't fit for that kind of travel, especially on her own.

"Sure," she nodded confidently. "My wolf senses will guide me and help me steer clear of enemies." She eyed Robin and Regina with open curiosity. "What are you two up to?"

"Rescuing my son," Robin said. "Have you seen him by any chance?" If she had been cursed by the Witch to recruit for her army, Ruby might know a thing or two they'd find useful.

"Oh, he must be one of the children that bitch's been abducting," Ruby said, and Robin's hopes rose. The next words were all the more crushing, though. "No, sorry. I was with the pack, never actually at the palace. I don't really have any information to help y-" she halted and stared ahead for a moment. "Wait, maybe I do have something. We found a half-finished carcass in the woods last night with teeth marks in it unlike any animal I know."

"The Cyclopes?" Regina looked at Robin.

"Could be," he nodded.

"You could track them down - I assume you read tracks - and interrogate the leader," Ruby suggested.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Robin agreed. They needed inside information, and the sooner the better. The more details, the more effective their assault was going to be.

"Good luck, then," Ruby said to them both.

"You, too," Robin replied.

"Get there safe," Regina called after her. The two women exchanged one more look, then Ruby disappeared between the trees.

* * *

><p>"All patched up," Regina said as she fixed the bandage over Robin's calf in place. She had done a lousy job and she knew it. "I could have done much better with magic."<p>

"You did just fine," he assured her with a grin. She couldn't help but think he was just saying that to avoid further talk of magic. He seemed to hate it more than anyone else she'd met - perhaps, ironically, with the exception of herself as a child.

"Thank you," he added, and the gladness at that unnerved her. What was she even doing there?

The wineskin was close at hand, so she grabbed it even though she had no need of it, and because it would have looked foolish otherwise, she took a swig.

Robin took a bite of the pear he had left of his supper, and spat out a seed. Regina couldn't help but smirk.

"You're perfectly capable of felling thirteen wolves, but cannot handle a fruit seed?" she teased.

Robin smiled but didn't look at her. He gazed at the fruit in his hand with eyes glazed over by emotion, and she couldn't for the life of her fathom what had brought that about. Besides, the display made her uneasy - she didn't have much experience in comforting people, at least not in a long time. All the same, when he spoke all of a sudden, she couldn't but strain her ears, eager to hear every word.

"It's a thing," he said with a crooked smile, "that Roland and I have. See, if you eat the seeds, you'll grow a tree in your stomach."

"That is old," Regina objected in a would-be taunt, wary of the relentless assaults of emotion at his simple yet so touching story.

Robin chuckled. "Try to tell him that. He insists that I spit every single one out, and the few times I tried to convince him otherwise he seemed in such distress I finally gave up. I'm so used to it now that I do it even when he's not around."

Henry used to do that, although not as obsessively as Roland seemed to. No. She won't, she can't go there.

"What's it like on the road with a small child?"

"I realise it's not ideal for him," he said. He sounded almost regretful, and she felt a pang of guilt at having brought this out in him unintentionally, "even though he seems to enjoy the adventure. But there isn't much in the way of settling down and building something here, just as there had been little opportunity of that back home."

"Where's home?" This was safe ground - he was talking, but the topic wasn't affecting her in a profound way.

"The Sherwood Forest."

"You weren't born an outlaw," she remarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow, amused. "What gave me away?"

"Your speech. Some semblance of manners," Regina shrugged, hiding the smile and feigning scorn.

"Semblance?" he clutched his chest, mock-hurt. "I beg your pardon, milady," he suggested a bow.

He was overdoing it now, far too theatrical for her taste, but other than that she had to admit she appreciated the banter. This was a form of communication she excelled at and felt comfortable with.

"I was considering settling down once - even did for a little while," he said out of the blue, and the look on his face freaked her out because it spoke of seriousness again. Her gut was warning her of some unknown ill, and Regina found herself dreading what was coming next.

"With my wife. She was ill, and I thought it would do her good. Besides, we learnt soon after that there was a baby on the way."

He was talking about Roland's mother. Regina could think of several reasons she wasn't around, none of them good.

Robin continued, far away in mind. "I managed, by resorting to all kinds of desperate deeds, to keep her alive long enough to have Roland. She went soon after...she still had time to give him a name though."

Regina shivered. This might have taken her thoughts off Henry for a bit but the direction it was taking her instead was hardly any less stressful. Had Robin Hood spent many an hour grieving over his lost love's corpse, too? He spoke of her with such fondness... She felt a lump grow in her throat. And he wasn't helping.

"Roland kept me grounded, you know. It's amazing how a child can change you - change everything, in fact. Give you a whole new perspective. Of course I was a clueless parent at first," he grinned, but somehow even that didn't feel any less sad.

This wasn't about her. She knew that, didn't she? The man was talking about him and his son. It had nothing to do with Henry and her, nothing at all.

Who was she kidding?

Regina wished for him to stop but didn't know how to make him without being outright obnoxious. And he seemed to be far from finished.

"I freaked out at the smallest cry," he reminisced, fiddling with a stick of dry firewood absently, "dreading he might be ill like his mother. John was a lot of help - he'd had a bunch of baby sisters. Things get easier after a while, or some don't... You learn from your mistakes, though. Only sometimes the price is somewhat too high."

The insinuation hurt to the core. Suddenly it didn't matter if she were obnoxious - obnoxious actually seemed just right for the situation. But she might have stopped herself yet, if only it hadn't been for those unfortunate words coming up next.

"I should never have let him out of my sight!" Robin punched the log he was sitting on. "Perhaps I would have noticed the signs. They must have been watching him, then snatched him just as he was alone and unprotected for a moment. I feel like I failed him."

If she had only just been able to protect Henry from Greg, and then from Pan, if she had seen the warning signs that Henry wasn't Henry but Pan - what kind of a mother was she not to have recognised that? A mother who had refused the truth for her own selfish need to feel accepted, that's what kind. In the end, Henry had paid for it. They all had paid for it, including Regina. And now there was nothing she could do anymore.

Perhaps it was the onslaught of pain and self-pity. Perhaps it was jealousy of Robin and Roland for still having a chance, as opposed to her own hopeless situation. Perhaps it was all of it, all that she had been keeping bottled up for so long. Either way, all of that emotion thrown into the mixer produced a large cocktail of anger, and Regina lashed out.

"Oh, would you stop wallowing in self-pity," she snarled. "At least you get to get your son back."

Robin's face fell, and hurt concentrate stared out of his unbelieving eyes.

It was like a cold shower, like being doused in icy water. What had she done? He had confided in her, opened himself up to her, revealed the most vulnerable spots, and what had she done? Strike where it hurt most with a ruthlessness the thought of which made her want to just disappear for shame. _Well done, Regina, for ruining everything - again_.

And worst of all, her mortification, or whatever else there was that was wrong with her, made it impossible to apologise - there was no way she could put this right anyway.

So she turned away, pretending it never happened, pretending she didn't care, pretending this was the kind of person she was and who she wanted to be.

* * *

><p>Regina's sudden attack left him completely baffled and deeply wounded. If he thought he could see a shred of remorse in her eyes seconds later, it certainly went as fast as it had come because she never acknowledged having made a mistake. So why had it taken him by surprise anyway? Why had he gone and confided in this woman, whom everyone had dismissed as a monster?<p>

At that point Robin's wounded soul came to odds with the voice in his head - or was it the head? The Queen - Regina - had been, well, not exactly living up to her reputation as the Evil Queen - at least not all the time. She had in fact spent enough time not acting like the infamous, heartless monster hearsay had been making her out to be. It had felt right talking to her about Roland for some reason, and even regarding Marion he had felt a quiet understanding on Regina's part that he had rarely experienced before.

Then something had gone terribly wrong, and Robin just felt at a loss as to the reason. He sure did hope to get Roland back, and she had seemed to sympathise every single time that had come up - even at the Dark Castle, although she had tried to look unconcerned, but he hadn't been entirely fooled. So why the angry outburst now?

Dinner was an awkward affair, filled with heavy silence. Robin would steal an occasional glance at Regina. She picked at her food with little interest and seemed to be far away at one time and painfully aware of his presence at another. Then she set her food aside. She shot him a quick look and turned away again.

Robin kept his eyes fixed on her. He had been right, he was sure now. Her anger had flared temporarily and now she didn't know how to handle it. What was she hiding behind the carefully arranged mask? He 'd been aching to break the silence but felt something was off, there was something hanging in the air that Regina wasn't saying. What could he do to find out?

Regina raised her head with an air of defiance and surveyed him for a good while. What could she be thinking? He could almost feel her scrutinising gaze, and suddenly he felt anxious to pass whatever test she was putting him under. Robin took care to return her gaze with all sincerity and good intent, and hoped it would get across. He could be trusted - he just needed to make her see that.

Regina's fist clenched around a fold of her dress. She fumbled a little and eventually retrieved something small from the hidden pocket. Her fingers trembled as she began to unfold the piece of paper. She didn't look at it, although this appeared to require a lot of restraint, but handed it to him without a word.

Robin stared down at the picture in his hands. The edges were frayed and the paper creased at the folds from the dozens of times it had been folded and unfolded again. She looked different in the picture - not just the hair and garments, but especially the emotion reflected in her features - soft, relaxed and peaceful, almost dreamy. But Robin's eyes were drawn to the dark-haired boy picture-Regina had her arms around. He wore the smile of a happy, content child, and leaned into her embrace with his hands crossed over hers. The realisation tugged at his heart.

"His name is Henry," Regina said at long last with a hitch in her voice she didn't quite manage to control. "He's…"

"Your son." Robin didn't need her confirmation to know it was true. It all made sense now. Regina had a son. And she had had to leave him behind. That was the great loss weighing down on Regina that Snow had been talking about. That was why every mention of Roland had such a prominent effect on her.

"You were separated," Robin said quietly. Regina nodded. "Were you looking for a way back? In the Dark One's books?"

It made perfect sense - he had gone to look there, too, of course, and if Regina needed a portal, well, he didn't know much about those, but one thing he did know was that they were hard to come by. But for his son, he'd always look for a way.

"I…yes. No. I mean- I don't know."

The answer completely threw him. He had expected a simple agreement, and instead everything suggested things were much more complicated - but how?

"Why- what do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"It's not so simple. I cannot…" Her voice wavered. "Even if I found a way to go back, Henry wouldn't remember me," she said miserably.

She was making a monstrous effort to control herself - he knew that posture, shoulders straightened, back stretched, head up high.

"And even if he did," she managed, "it wouldn't matter - I mustn't see him. It's part of the curse that brought us here." Her voice broke again, and it was reduced to little more than a whisper. "I don't know what would happen if I breached it. I'm not risking my son's well-being. Even if it means I will never see him again."

No wonder she lost control once in a while - so would he. Actually, that might not be true. Even just the idea of losing Roland forever was enough to freeze his blood. Who knew what he might do in her place, what such a fate would do to him. He even understood her confused response of earlier - of course it would be her first instinct to look for a way back to her son...but if it held such unforeseeable risks... No wonder she had spurned his absurd bait of palaces and power - what an idiot he had been.

"I'm sorry," he said, because it was true and because to say anything else would have been empty and worthless. To his puzzlement, it seemed to surprise her. Had she been expecting him to retaliate for her misstep before? How could he?

"He's happy," she said hoarsely, and even strove for a smile. It broke his heart. "That's what matters."

"Is his father with him?" he probed gently. The boy - Henry - wouldn't have been left alone in the world, surely. Giving up on her child would have been hard beyond words, and leaving a husband behind, too, perhaps... Well, Robin just didn't like the thought one bit.

The look of confusion on her face didn't answer much.

"His father? No. Emma," she began, "his…mother." It seemed to have cost her all the will-power in the world to get the word out, and she had tripped over it several times before she did.

Something clicked at Emma's name, though.

"Wait… Isn't Neal's son's name Henry?"

The puzzle pieces didn't seem to fit: Neal had mentioned an Emma and a Henry, but they couldn't possibly be the same people - or could they? Either way, it was a remarkable coincidence.

Regina nodded wearily. "Yes. It's…complicated. Emma and Neal are Henry's biological parents. I adopted him as a baby."

"Whoa..." he sighed softly.

That explained a lot. It made him feel for her even more, actually: she had taken an abandoned baby and given him a loving home - because there was no doubt in his mind that this woman loved her son more than anything. The line of thought seemed to be getting the best of her, though, and she seemed to be fighting back tears. Robin reached for something to go on.

"So… Um… you, Emma, and Neal share a son. And - your son is also Snow White's grandson?"

"And Rumplestiltskin's. Yes. One monster of a family tree." The attempted joke was the saddest thing he had seen in a while. She braved a smile but all Robin saw was the suffering etched in her face and the hollowness in her eyes. "Of course now he only remembers Emma - one mother instead of the mess we really are."

"Regina…"

Robin wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but there was nothing he could say to make the pain go away. He rose and sat next to her. She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with alarm and surprise at his actions, and she searched his face for some answer.

Robin began to fold the picture with the same meticulous care he had seen her treat it with. Regina watched his hands, apparently transfixed. Perhaps she just didn't want to meet his eye. That was fine, too. He took her hand and placed the photo in her palm. Regina tensed at his touch but relaxed a little as he closed her fist over the picture.

Now would be the time to let go, but instead he found himself resting his hand over hers.

Her eyes darted from their hands to his face and back again.

"Good night, Robin," she faltered, and her hand slipped from his light grasp.

Then she was gone, putting the fire between them. She never looked at him as she settled down to sleep.

Robin soon followed, but sleep would not come. He would stare into the dark for a good while, thinking about the Queen and her lost son, haunted by the image of brown-eyed sorrow burnt into his heart.

* * *

><p>She was nowhere to be seen, and nothing was missing. By the look of it, she had neither left nor had there been a robbery.<p>

Robin felt cold creep into his stomach. The Witch. They had entered the kingdom just before striking camp. Perhaps she already knew, perhaps she had come to get Regina, who would be her natural enemy.

Robin fastened his belt with the sword and dagger sheathed and slipped into the trees. He began to walk around the campsite in circles, small at first and growing ever larger, until finally he found a track. There was only one pair of footprints, and they were Regina's. Relief was followed by worry - what was she doing so far out of camp in the dead of night? It was dangerous out there, and she had gone to rest upset. Robin followed her trail without hesitation.

He heard it before he even saw her: heaving, heart-wrenching, uncontrollable sobbing. For a moment he just stood there, mesmerised by her bent back and shaking shoulders, stunned by the dreadful moan rising from the very bottom of her heart. He stepped towards her, ever so quietly, but she couldn't have heard him anyway for the crying, nor could she have seen him because her face was buried in her hands.

Despite all the lightness of the touch, she jumped at the feel of his hand on her shoulder. The terror in her tear-filled eyes made him retract his arm immediately. Maybe he should have spoken first. Maybe it wasn't too late for that yet. But how did one comfort someone in pain so deep, so profound?

"Regina..." he whispered, begging his eyes to speak for him, for words were failing him when he needed them most. So he chose to risk one more attempt. Now that she knew he was there, perhaps she wouldn't flip out at his touch.

Inching closer, Robin made a point of holding her eyes. The rattling sobs had ceased for the moment, and she watched him with fear and fascination merged into one. When he reached for her cheek, she didn't move - indeed, she seemed quite stunned. Almost there... His finger ran across her cheek, brushing tears away on its way. Yes, it was working...

But he rejoiced too soon. Regina's gaze shifted to his hand and she backed away into a tree trunk at the sight. Robin moved automatically to follow, when he caught the expression on her face.

Her eyes had the look of a wounded deer cornered by a huntsman, and she seemed to be pleading four her life.

He wanted so much to help, but there seemed to be no helping her now - or maybe he just wasn't doing it right, or wasn't the right person to do it at all.

Crushed, Robin withdrew his hand once more. With one long look, he turned and walked back to camp, where he sank onto the blanket heavily and stared into the fire.

Regina prayed for him to leave, and she wished he would stay. The fear was stronger, though, as it so often was.

She watched him leave the way he had come, obviously shaken by the state of her. Then she rested her forehead against the rough bark of the tree.

The tears came soon after, with a renewed force, and choked her with their salty bitterness.

Her fingers remained curled around the shabby photo as the gut-wrenching sobs made her insides ache.

Finally, she was crying.

* * *

><p><em>As I said - angsty. :( I just want to hug them... Or want them to hug? Anyway, I'll try to plough on with this as soon as possible, but I no longer have chapters written ahead, so it might be longer between updates. You do motivate me, though. ;)<em>


	9. Ghosts

_I'm back with a chapter! A shorter one this time, but this way I'm able to update more often. Once again, it turned out quite angsty I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for your feedback!_

* * *

><p>Regina walked a step ahead of him and made it a point to avoid his eyes. She never said a word about the previous night, and clearly had no wish for him to bring it up either. So Robin kept quiet, but his mind raced. He just couldn't erase the image of her tears and misery from memory, and kept picturing the scene and making up scenarios in which he was able to offer some comfort to her, unlike he had been then. One minute he berated himself for having been too pushy, then he wished he had been more insistent in his efforts. It felt terrible to have been so helpless. Even now, she was refusing comfort.<p>

They were in the Witch's territory now, nearing the Dark Palace, and Robin had had to concede that it was best for her to stay a little ahead, for she could sense magic before he had a chance to notice anything was amiss. Regina pushed branches out of her way unceremoniously, careless about dirt or twigs her clothes picked up in the process, looking ahead, pressing forward with tenacity. As they entered a thicket of bushes, he moved closer and kept a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Regina stepped out into a clearing ahead and halted, freezing to the spot. A small moan escaped her. Robin pulled his sword and bounded forward, slipping past her - but there was nothing and no one to fight.

A black shape lay sprawled on the flower-spattered grass, its long neck covered with shiny black mane, its legs gracefully arranged, and its dark eyes wide and bearing a strange sheen. A cone-shaped horn stuck out from its forehead and pointed straight at them. Robin stared in awe - he had heard about the creatures, but he had never seen an actual unicorn before.

"Is it dead?" she asked in a strangely tense voice, but still she hadn't moved.

"I think it must be," Robin said quietly. "Or else badly wounded." It was a sorry sight, and his heart filled with sadness. He moved to the poor animal and knelt to check for wounds. Something - or someone - must have made the kill, but there was no visible damage. "Maybe the wolves," he mused, brushing the silky mane aside to check the neck. He knew straight away it didn't fit - there would only be a carcass, and he couldn't even see one chunk of meat missing. "Or the Cyclopes."

"No," Regina said hoarsely. "Look."

Robin turned to her, curious what she could have spotted from so far away that he hadn't seen from up close. She had moved from the edge of the clearing in the meantime and was standing over a wooden box with a red jewel on the lid. It threw off a faint red glow, and Regina seemed unable to tear her eyes away from it.

"What is it?" he asked, watching her closely. Her breathing was hard and fast, and her eyes had a strange, faraway look in them.

She held out a hand to the box at her feet, and it glowed ever more with a pulsating red light.

"It's a heart," she breathed. "The box looks like the ones from my vault. But there had been no hearts left, I took them with me to Storybrooke." She wasn't talking to him anymore really, but merely giving voice to her thoughts. Frowning, she ran a hand across her forehead. "Unless they were returned when the New Curse was cast…"

"So this box holds one of…" Robin trailed off, the words strange in his mouth and the idea disturbing in his mind. "one of your - hearts?"

"No." The finality she said it with left no room for doubt, even though he had no idea how she could be so sure. "The unicorn's."

"So it's meant to look like you did this? It's like the villages again." She nodded, pale and so full of anguish it scared him. "She's framing you in hopes of creating chaos," he reasoned, stepping towards her. "Two small armies accomplish less than a single united one. It's just a tactic, that's all."

Regina shook her head.

"No. This is personal. It's about me. Who I was... Who I became." Her voice had faded to a whisper. "She knows things about me that..." she trailed off, and wrung her hands together, staring down at them. "But...how?"

"Regina, if there's nothing we can do for him, I think we'd better go on." He needed to get her out of there, because even though he didn't understand the profound effect this was having on her, the sight was clearly putting her under enormous stress.

"Maybe there is something," she said slowly, raising her eyes form the box at her feet to the sprawled animal.

She picked up the box and removed the lid. Robin couldn't resist peering in - the thought repulsed him but it was incredibly captivating at the same time. He had never seen anything like this before: a beating heart, red and very much alive outside its owner's body. Regina removed it from the box and approached the unicorn. Robin couldn't but stare in fascination as she crouched at the beast's side. Her free hand went to the horse's muzzle, and she stroked the lifeless shape lightly, possibly without realising she was doing so. Robin wondered what would come next, his mind coming up with one wild idea after another, but only one that kept resurfacing.

She didn't hesitate a moment as she grasped the heart and plunged it into the horse's chest.

Nothing happened. Perhaps there was something else to be done still, or perhaps whatever she had in mind had failed, perhaps it was too late.

Then the unicorn blinked and lifted its head off the dirt. Regina stepped aside. The animal began to struggle to get up, unfaltering even when its legs gave in once or twice, and eventually, it stood before them in full height, proud and unhurt, as if no harm in the world had befallen it. Robin watched, awe-struck, as the unicorn turned towards Regina and shook its mane slightly, eyeing her with eerie intentness. Regina reached out to it, and the horse bent its head, welcoming the touch.

The moment Regina's fingers came into contact with the unicorn's skin, Robin knew it was wrong, very wrong. The horse snorted and its eyes rolled back into its head for a split second before its steady gaze returned to Regina - only it was now a wild glare.

"Look out!" Robin cried just as she jumped back.

The horse gave a heart-breaking, tear-jerking neigh. Its muscles twitched unnaturally, and it whined in pain and terror. Robin didn't understand: nothing was threatening the animal, and it had seemed perfectly healthy just a moment ago. Of course, another moment before that, it had appeared to be dead…

The seizure was getting worse by the second, and the poor beast was screaming and kicking its legs in agony. Regina stood before it, rooted to the spot, and Robin feared for her safety - the hooves were at times dangerously close, and the beast seemed not in control of its own actions.

"Can you do something?" Robin yelled over the cacophony, but Regina didn't seem to hear. She stared at the raging unicorn with a look of utter horror and endless pain. The unicorn reared and kicked the air, and Regina stumbled backwards as it threatened to crush her.

And then she raised her hand and Robin expected a blast of magic - but nothing happened. The beast continued to convulse in a helpless tangle of legs and mane, with a fiendish glare. There was no helping it. Regina held out a hand in its direction. _End it_, Robin prayed, and he reached for his bow, certain that Regina would be faster. She, too, had to see this was the only way. But, whatever the reason, she couldn't do it. Her arm lingered in the air, and the beast reared again, but this time, blinded by pain, it shot forward to attack.

Robin released an arrow, and another one immediately after it. He watched their flight as though it were set into slow motion. One tore through the air and buried deep into the unicorn's neck. The other found its way straight through the tortured beast's heart.

The unicorn tumbled to the ground and lay dead.

Robin felt relief overcome him, although it was tainted by pity for the innocent animal's suffering.

Regina still hadn't moved, only her arm had now fallen limp to her side. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the lifeless shape.

"It's over," Robin said softly.

Regina whimpered.

Robin moved over to her with haste, stunned by the horror of it all, but mostly by her intense reaction. He was resolved to be there for her this time. However, he had barely put an arm around her when she slipped away from him and bolted for the bushes.

Once there, she bent over and was violently sick.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered without looking at him. Her stomach still turned at the thought of the unicorn's misery and her own. She couldn't bear to look at him, to be subjected to that intense blue gaze. How could she make him understand the meaning of this? Regina wasn't even sure she wanted to - a lot of it she didn't understand either.<p>

Robin handed her a drink of water fresh from the stream. He sighed, but nodded all the same.

"Fine, we won't talk about it," he said, and she felt a mixed sense of relief and - something else she couldn't place. "But I'll make you a concoction and you'll drink it, even if it stinks foul."

Why was he being so kind to her, and so understanding? He knew nothing, of course, nothing about what this scene was referring to, nothing about her lessons with Rumple and how she had taken her first heart from a unicorn that had born an uncanny resemblance to this one. He knew nothing about Daniel and how he had turned into a monster when revived, or what she'd had to do then, which she suspected was why she hadn't been capable of killing the unicorn now. Thanks to Robin, she didn't have to.

"I don't need anything for an upset stomach," she objected.

Shame still attacked her in waves, ruining her attempt at sounding indignant. She had retched in front of him, for heaven's sake. Embarrassing didn't even come close to describing it.

"It's not for an upset stomach," Robin said quietly. "But I'm glad to see your usual stubbornness returning to you." He grinned, and she could almost hug him then - he wasn't pressuring her into talks, didn't linger on the awkward subject of throwing up, but steered the situation someplace she could begin to feel remotely comfortable again.

"Robin, there's no time for this," she heard herself say. He had bothered with her enough, she still felt uneasy about accepting these kindnesses from him. "We need to go. The Witch knows we're coming."

He concurred for the moment, and she breathed more easily once they had left the clearing behind, though she was still an emotional whirlpool. While she was doing her best to regain control, he announced a mandatory break, and shortly handed her a cup of the infusion he had threatened her with - except not quite like that, because instead of foul and bitter, it smelled flowery and tasted sweet. It was linden tea, and besides indigestion it was taken for its calming, soothing effect.

Perhaps Robin understood too much after all.

* * *

><p>Regina tossed and turned that night, floating in and out of dreams that - and that only made matters so much worse - were really memories: memories of Daniel in Storybrooke Stables, of his plea to be freed from his suffering, of the simple yet oh so painfully difficult piece of magic that had sent him to eternal rest. Swimming against the current of her feverish mind, she finally got to the surface of this nightmare, only to be plunged into the memory of herself in the Enchanted Forest with a soft, warm, beating heart in her hand, a poor unsuspecting unicorn completely at her mercy, and the horror of her tutor's blood-curdling request. Her brain told her it was just a dream, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't snap out of it.<p>

A hand gripped her heart, cold and skeletal. The world of hellish memories dissolved, and only darkness remained - and a chilly wind getting under her skin and into her very bones. Her throat tightened, and she gasped for air, but none would come. The cold stone floor of Storybrooke Sheriff Station loomed before her, and even as she raised her head dread filled her, because she knew what she'd see: a mass of ripped, rotting clothing flowing in the air, and a pair of red, gleaming eyes...And a second later, she'd feel the life - no, the soul - being sucked out of her...

A bright tongue leapt out of the fire, and Regina jerked awake. Her hand shot to her forehead and brushed a strand of sticky wet hair out of her face. She was covered in sweat, cold and shaking. It had only been a dream. The stables were gone, the unicorn was gone.

The red eyes were still there, peering from the thick foliage.

She blinked, and they disappeared. But the icy feeling at her heart lingered.


	10. At Odds

_Let's play the good news/bad news game, ok? Bad news: the identity behind the eerie red eyes isn't revealed yet - I do enjoy you guessing though. ;) Good news: this is basically pure Regina and Robin interaction, and disagreement abounds. Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!_

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><p>"We have a guest over for breakfast," Regina's gleeful voice announced.<p>

Robin turned around and almost dropped the piece of freshly-roasted meat into the fire. Regina had stepped from the thicket with a self-conceited smile on her lips, followed by a giant of a Cyclops trailing behind her, tame as a lamb.

"Where did you-? How?"

A smirk settled on Regina's face. Surely there hadn't been a fight. Robin looked her up and down and, much to his relief, found not a hair out of place - she was perfectly unharmed. Not so the Cyclops: the robust, muscled creature was shrouded in some strange purple substance - a cloud of magic of some sorts. His only eye looked glazed and his stare absent.

"Have you cursed him?"

"Of course not," she returned with a note of irritation. "But he would hardly have come with me voluntarily, and we have good use for him. Look."

Robin's look dropped to the Cyclops' helmet in Regina's hands.

"An officer?" he guessed at the sight of the full horse hair plume on top. He looked back at Regina, who was wearing a contented smirk. "He can tell us about the Witch's defenses," he said with a swell of hope.

Regina gave a small laugh. Under her pointed look, the Cyclops waddled over to a log and sat against a tree trunk. She rolled up her sleeves and reached towards him without a moment's hesitation, pinning the Cyclops with a cold, hard stare that made Robin shiver.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Interrogating our prisoner," she snapped, "what does it look like to you?" She turned back to the beast with a malicious glint in her eyes that he hadn't seen there before. He didn't have to think twice to imagine the method the Queen was opting for would be highly unpleasant. He had to stop this madness before it went too far.

"Regina," he began warily, "I hardly think this is appropriate."

"Appropriate?" she spat, her voice dripping sarcasm. "This Witch has been kidnapping children. I'd hardly call that appropriate."

That was true, of course, but it didn't justify what they were about to do.

"We have no need of your magic to do this."

Regina seemed to think otherwise.

"I captured him with magic," she said with increased annoyance. "Why shouldn't I interrogate him the same way?"

The challenging, over-the-shoulder look she threw him cut right through the veil of reason he was struggling to employ.

"Oh, I don't know," he scoffed, "perhaps because he might be willing to speak without torture?"

He shouldn't have done that - shouldn't have let her provoke him into the increasingly heated tone matching her own. Yet here he was now. What was it about her that was making it impossible to stay calm?

"I tried that already," she retorted with her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. "He laughed in my face! No one laughs in my face," she finished darkly with unmasked threat.

"So this is really about your vanity?"

Her face darkened. It was too late now to take back the unfortunate choice of words.

"No, this is about the price of things." Her eyes darted to the Cyclops, then back to Robin. Something had changed in her expression, some kind of bitterness had crept into her face as she continued. "Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty doing what needs to be done. Nobility won't get us anywhere now."

"I prefer to remain within the boundaries of humanity whenever I can," he said in a level voice. Maybe he was being too judgemental, too pushy. Perhaps she would see the error of her ways if she didn't feel challenged by his attitude.

"I'm not asking you to give up these foolish ideals of yours," she said flatly. "I'll do the dirty work."

There was something about her voice as she said it that unsettled him, and it wasn't anger or arrogance this time.

"It makes no difference if I stand around while you do it," Robin answered, looking her in the eye.

She didn't miss a beat, nor did she show any sign of unease.

"Well, you could try stopping me and end up senseless, too, like our guest," she offered dryly. "Would that make you feel better? If so, let's be done with it."

Her patience was running out again, clearly. So was his - they were wasting precious time.

"Regina, if you would just-"

"Do you want your son back or not?"

"Of course I do!" he shouted.

Whoa there. He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. It'd been a while since he lost control like that.

For a moment, his outburst seemed to shake her just as much as it did him. Then she simply turned her attention to the Cyclops, who hadn't made a move during the entire exchange. Before she could do anything more, however, Robin was at her side, and wrapped his fingers around her arm to prevent whatever she was about to do.

"How dare you!" she boomed, whipping around to face him. Her eyes burned with fierce rage, and he could almost feel the heat rising in her cheeks as their faces were mere inches apart. The Queen's rage was infamous, and it seemed he was going to witness it first hand.

But Robin Hood wouldn't be intimidated into silence.

"I'd like to try my way first," he hissed. "Then we can consider yours."

For a moment nothing happened. Everything froze apart from their eyes, which were engaging in a staring contest of sorts. Who would out-stare whom?

"Fine," she said eventually through gritted teeth, "if wasting our time is what you desire, suit yourself."

Regina waved a hand in front of the Cyclops' dazed face, and his expressionless eye came to life again. His vacant face reassembled into a mask of hostility.

Regina sat down on a log, crossed her legs, and arched an eyebrow in expectation. He would have sworn once it wasn't possible to convey such an amount of sarcasm by just a look or posture, but right then she was proving him wrong. He turned back to the bound Cyclops - she hadn't bothered undoing the binding spell, and for now that was probably for the best anyway.

Robin begin to question the brute about the palace: what protection spells were in place, where the guards were positioned, where the children were being kept. He asked about the Witch: was she at the palace, what did she do with the children, what were her larger plans? But the wretched Cyclops held his tongue, eyeing Robin with utter contempt.

With each unanswered question, Robin's rage grew along with his despair. He could beat that mass of yellow-clad muscle unconscious - and did he yearn to! Damn, Roland was in there, and had been for days. He was taking too long to reach his son as it was, and now he was failing at obtaining crucial information from a creature that would probably kill them in a heartbeat if it had the chance - and all this just because his notion of honour was making him squeamish about torture. What did the means matter anyway, with his son's life at stake?

Conscience cried out in alarm at the thought, but at the same time Roland's image swam before his eyes. Robin would live with the guilt of mistreating the enemy before he could ever live with the guilt of losing Roland.

"Fine," he sighed in resignation, and pulled his dagger, "have it your way."

The prospect was sickening, but it had become necessary. Before he made the next move, however, Regina spoke from close behind him - how and when she had gotten there was a mystery to him.

"Have you ever had your heart ripped out?" she addressed the Cyclops in a low, threatening voice. A momentary look of panic crossed the rough features of their captive. "I thought so. Well, this shall be a first. Then you shall have no chance but to talk, and I can make sure your situation is extremely…unpleasant," she snarled in the Cyclops' face with her fingers digging into the striped shirt over his heart. Robin just stood there and watched her, utterly mesmerised. "Or," she pulled back a notch, removing her hand, at which the beast visibly relaxed, "you could just be reasonable and answer the questions the noble bandit here asked so politely."

The Cyclops looked around, took a deep, rattling breath, and a grunting noise issued form his mouth. He was speaking - and once he stated, there was no end to his words. The petrified creature told them all they wanted to know - or all it knew - and more. The palace was shielded by a protection charm. Every entrance was heavily guarded, but there was hardly any Cyclops force inside the palace itself. The abducted children were kept in the dungeons, but the Cyclops knew no details of their treatment. He seemed to know much of the Witch's plans when it came to army movements, which would certainly be useful once the Charmings mustered a force sufficient to take them on, but had no information about the Witch's overall motivations or plans.

"Do you believe he's telling the truth?"

Robin blinked at the sound of her voice. It no longer sounded as...disturbing as before. He surveyed the Cyclops.

"Yes," he nodded.

Apparently she had reached the same conclusion, or had by some miracle chosen to go with his view, because she didn't challenge it.

"And what do you propose we do with him now? Release him?" There it was - that sarcastic sneer again.

"No. We'll leave him here, tied up." To his own surprise, his answer was perfectly calm and collected, yet decisive. "That way he cannot forewarn the defendants of our arrival, and once he breaks free, it will be over."

Regina frowned at that, but didn't argue. Robin retrieved the slices of meat and began to warm them over the dying fire. Breakfast was in order, and then - planning their move on the palace.

* * *

><p>If the bandit thought she was going to relent after a poorly seasoned slice of chewy venison in her stomach, he was badly mistaken. He should be grateful she had come to his rescue with the wretched Cyclops - the man had seemed so dismayed by the idea of dirtying his hands that she'd decided to step in. He didn't know that of course - he had no idea why she'd done it, and she certainly wasn't planning on telling him. Even is it was he'd had too much leverage on her - she hadn't ripped the beast's heart out or subjected him to torture as she might have - and would have, had her little make-believe not worked. But worked it had, and eventually all she'd had to do was play at Evil Queen without actually doing the deed.<p>

Why had she chosen not to do it? She would have enjoyed the moment once. Did she regret not doing it now? No.

Regina shifted uncomfortably on the log.

"I know how we'll get into the palace," she said, redirecting her thoughts.

Robin raised his head from the chunk of bread he was finishing. "How's that?"

"There's a secret passage the Witch probably knows nothing about." The damn Witch may have usurped Regina's palace and staged twisted reenactments of events from her past, but Regina still had the upper hand. The palace had, after all, been the closest thing to a home she'd had for years. There was something else, too, to make her lips twitch. "Or even if she knows, she has no access to it."

Robin only took a moment to answer. "Let me guess - it's sealed by magic."

"That's right."

"But this Witch has magic, too."

_Thanks for stating the obvious_. Perhaps it was the consolation of her advantage that restrained her from carping at him further.

"This is different," she replied simply. "There's no way around blood magic, no matter how potent your powers."

Robin eyed her for a bit. He seemed about to speak but weighed his words carefully. She bristled at that: apparently, whatever he had to say, she wasn't going to like it.

"So you'll take us through the passage and let us in," he finally said. "Then I'll go and find Roland."

"Excuse me?"

He hadn't just said that, had he? He couldn't possibly mean to do this by himself. And the rigid resolve in his tone! What ever gave him the right to think he could boss her around like that?

Robin seemed unsurprised by her outraged reaction, and kept a solemn face.

"Regina, when I get back with those children, we need to be sure the passage is still safe to use," he reasoned without a hint of irateness. The man was getting increasingly insufferable by the minute, and this superior attitude he was taking with her would certainly do him no good.

"You think you can do this alone?" she challenged. "Are you really so overweening? In a palace that, even without actual enemies, is full of magical traps? You don't even know the way to the dungeons." She couldn't resist the jibe. "Talk about conceited," she threw at him with a direct, provocative look.

"How hard can it be to find the dungeons? You just go down to where it's cold and dark." Some exasperation had made its way into his voice, and some flurry. "The point is-"

"The point is you don't want me around," she snapped. The thought actually stung, and she ploughed on all the more vehemently for it. "Which would be fair enough if it weren't utter nonsense. This is why you asked for my help, remember? To free your son? Because I had magic?"

He was making no sense, and he seemed to be aware of it well enough, for as he was losing ground, a frown was settling on his brow.

"Yes, and now we're here and I'm ready to do my part."

"Why? For the glory?" It was a possible explanation, and really it should have made more sense to her than it actually did. Her gut was saying that was not it, though.

"Don't be ridiculous," he dismissed the idea at once. His patience must have been on the run-out, because he added with heavy sarcasm: "Where's the glory of a thief anyway, right?"

No, this wasn't about glory. Of course it wasn't. It was something else entirely. It was always the same with people when it came to her: sooner or later it would come to this, even when at first they had pretended to be accepting. Why would he be any different?

"You don't want me anywhere near your son." Damn, what was that bitterness doing in her voice? More importantly, what the hell was it doing in her heart? The boy was nothing to her. This man was nothing to her. What did it matter if he thought she couldn't be trusted?

"Regina..." he said, flustered. "No, you're wrong. I never once considered that." His surprise was so evident it was quite clear he was telling the truth. She waited. Robin watched her for a moment and sighed. "I don't like the thought of the kind of magic that would go down in there," he admitted.

He didn't like magic, that much was clear - anyone would have seen that. But he had always known she practised it - after all, that had been her greatest asset back when he'd suggested the alliance. The change of heart now made no sense whatsoever. Perhaps reason would work, perhaps it would show him his bias.

"You use weapons. I use magic. What's the difference?"

"The difference is magic comes with far too high a price." The damn man always had a response ready - worse yet, he managed to throw her off-balance with it. But he wasn't done yet. After a short pause, he continued, watching her closely. "And I think twice before loosing an arrow. You seem ready to throw a fireball at the slightest provocation."

The cheek of the man! How dare he say such a thing to her - and be right about it. Patience wasn't one of her virtues, even she had to admit that, and she'd often been accused of rashness. Her hot temper had actually cost her some in the past. That didn't mean he could get away with stating it so bluntly, though. Patience she might lack, but sass she had plenty of.

"What do you know, I might just be the Evil Queen," she mocked him. "Oh, wait - I am."

If he had bickered back, she would have known how to handle it, but he wasn't having any of that now.

"It's dangerous, Regina. It's unpredictable, and it's costly."

His calmness seemed unshakable...and his eyes so - genuine. She would almost have said he was worried - but letting it on would make things way too complicated for her liking.

"I know how to handle my magic, thank you very much."

"Magic has failed you before, remember?" He wasn't even being hostile; he was simply stating a fact.

How did he know about the battle - how she had lost her powers temporarily just before the wild ride? He didn't. It was the unicorn he was referring to, of course. That's what it must have looked like to him: that she hadn't finished the animal because her magic had fallen flat.

"That had nothing to do with magic," she said without thinking.

"What was it, then?"

Damn. She'd have done better to shut up. Now he'd start asking questions she had no desire to answer, or even think about at all.

"My magic will be fine, you needn't worry about it. The Witch should, though," she leered. With a little luck, Robin would jump at the subject of the Witch and forget about the unicorn fiasco.

That part clearly worked, but the reason was not what she had thought. Robin's expression changed.

"She might be waiting for you," he said with a note of exasperation. "Is it a coincidence she hasn't shown up yet to stop us? To stop the Evil Queen-" Regina fought back a shudder at the sound of that. "-whose palace she had taken, and in whose name she's been wreaking havoc lately? Have you entertained that notion at all?"

She had finally succeeded in put him out of countenance, except in a rather unexpected manner.

"Are you saying it's some kind of trap?"

"What do I know?" he shrugged. "It could well be."

If only she could tell what on earth was happening here. One moment tempers flared - especially hers - and the next he was being all concerned and earnest with her. The former she knew how to handle, but the latter was filling her with unease.

"I can take care of myself," she muttered. She needed to pull herself together, what was wrong with her anyway? She forced her mind to operate within reason - at least he seemed to respond to that. "Besides, we want to finish this Witch, don't we? So we'd come face to face eventually anyway."

The truth was, there was more than one benefit to facing the Witch. Regina needed to know who this woman was, what she was intending to, and above all, why the Witch harboured such hostility for Regina. Unlike many a victim of Regina's deeds, with the Witch they had never even met before, so it was next to impossible for Regina to gather. Then there was the most alarming fact of the Witch having so much knowledge of Regina's life - too much knowledge. No one was supposed to know about certain things, and yet...

"Regina."

She flinched at Robin's voice. Her mind had wandered quite a bit there, and she caught him looking at her with those bright blue eyes.

"You won't listen, will you?" He wasn't arguing anymore, and the deflated look of him almost worried her for a second, when she should be rejoicing that she'd won the argument. He looked genuinely concerned, though. Could part of her actually be...pleased? What a completely ridiculous notion.

Anyway, he needed to understand she would have none of this nonsense in the future.

"I'm not a child, Robin," she said, but she wasn't as bitter or scathing as she might be. That didn't mean she was any less resolved, though. "I'm not one of your Merry Men. You can't tell me what to do or what not to do. I'm going in with you whether you like it or not, and we're getting your son out of there exactly like we agreed. We're on the same side, so just be glad for it."

Robin kept quiet for a good while. Was he working on a retort, or was he simply resigned? Eventually, his pensive gaze focused on her again, and a mischievous glint crept into his eyes.

"You do know you're incredibly stubborn, even for a Queen," he stated. The corners of his mouth twitched. "I'm talking mules, milady."

She should be offended by that. Or should she?

Before she had time to decide, his grin faded and he added quietly, still not breaking eye contact: "Thank you."

"Shut up and finish your breakfast, thief."

She stared into her bowl and wondered how on earth the smile she was concealing so hard had made its way into her words.

* * *

><p><em>So how about this? Was this the appropriate degree of sassy and "argumenty", or am I still too soft on the two of them? :D<em>


	11. Something Wicked

_Since this next chapter's getting quite long, I decided to split it in two and give you a more timely and reasonably sized update. There's a long-overdue encounter in store in this part, and some Outlaw Queen cooperation as well (and more of that in the next chapter!). Thanks for sticking around, and enjoy!_

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><p>Robin's fingers tingled over the blade behind his belt. His eyes darted from tree to tree, watching for enemies. Regina seemed unperturbed, but was also scanning the landscape for something.<p>

"Over there," she muttered, more to herself than him, and a smug smile played on her lips as she set out towards a large moss-covered boulder.

Robin followed, doubling his watch - if the Witch knew about the passage, the danger was bigger here than anywhere. Ever scanning the greenery, he strove to keep Regina in sight, too. With the simplest gesture, she stood before the rock, and Robin's head turned when the boulder rose gently, travelled through the air, and settled on the ground feet away. A shiver ran down his spine, as it was often the case in the presence of magic. He shook off the sensations creeping up on him. Thoughts of stolen magic wands and dear Marion would certainly do them no good now.

He stared hard into the dark mouth of the tunnel. Thank goodness he had a torch ready - otherwise no doubt Regina would take care of that with magic, too. But she wasn't squeamish about the gaping darkness, and descended first without looking back.

The passage was in good shape, with very few minor cavings along the way. Perhaps this was magically enhanced somehow. Regina pushed forward.

"Has anyone been through here?" She had suggested before that she, unlike him, could sense magical traps, so if there had been any intruders, maybe she'd notice.

"Everything seems to be the same," she replied. That didn't precisely answer his question, which made concern rise in him. He gripped the dagger tighter. How foolish of him, really, since that would hardly be much use against a magical foe. But better this than nothing - he certainly wasn't one to scare easily or just give up.

"I've been thinking," she turned to him abruptly. "Before you dismiss it, listen to me first."

"What is it?" It sounded as though what she was going to say wouldn't be to his liking.

"Maybe I should go get Roland by myself." Judging by the earnest look she was giving him, she really meant it, and clearly she had concerns about his reaction.

Well, she was damn right about that.

"You can't be serious," he said.

She wasn't giving up so easily, though. "You can watch the passage. That way you won't have to put up with my magic," she reasoned, and her voice caught for a moment, "and Roland won't be at risk of losing his father in the skirmish."

Was she really actually worrying about this? Robin himself entertained the thought much too often - Roland had already lost his mother, and putting himself in danger repeatedly during his banditry had often been cause for concern to Robin. But Regina was different, her concern was…well, touching, frankly.

"Regina, I appreciate the thought, I really do. But this won't do."

She sighed. "I knew you'd say that. You know, I could just bind you here magically until I come back."

There was no threat in her words, though.

"But you won't," he said and watched her carefully.

"No." She gave a humourless laugh. "You'd probably kill yourself before you gave up trying to get away. I know that's what I'd do if it were my son."

She ran through the words smoothly enough, but it had cost her a huge effort, and Robin was almost overcome by an urge to reach out to her. His heart broke at the thought of how difficult this had to be for Regina. This mission to save his son was a constant reminder of her own child, who was lost to her forever.

"You're right, I would," he managed finally. This wasn't a good time for heart-to-hearts, and what could he have said to make her feel any better anyway?

They soon came across one of the traps Regina had talked about before, perhaps not a magical one but deadly all the same: a minefield of sorts, and a slightly rusty crushing device that looked macabre enough without magical enhancement. Then they found themselves at the end of the passage and facing an open door.

"This can't be," Regina blurted.

That was when Robin's mind clicked.

"Is this the door you sealed with blood magic?"

"Yes! Only I can get through, no one else."

"Well, someone must have." This was most disturbing. If the Witch could do things even Regina thought impossible, they were in more trouble than they'd anticipated.

"But that's impossible," she insisted, "my whole family are dead, it just doesn't make sense."

"There must be an explanation…" Not one he could provide, and understandable though her agitation was, denial wasn't helping. "Either way, this Witch seems like a formidable foe, and more so by the minute."

"No one gets away with this." She balled her fist, and the dangerous glare he had seen before returned to her eyes. She marched through the door, and for a moment Robin didn't breathe - what if there was a new enchantment in place she overlooked in her distress? But she passed without problems, and he after her.

They entered a crypt of sorts, with shelves piled high all the way to the ceiling, and boxes lining them - heart boxes. Robin shivered.

"Shall we go?" Regina said pointedly, gesturing at the exit.

"Of course."

"Wait..." she held out a hand to stop him just as he was about to slip past her and through the door. "If I get to Roland first, he needs to know he's not to fear me. Is there anything…?"

"A safe word?" She nodded. Of course she'd know about safe words - she had a son, too. "You won't need one. He'll know."

His answer startled her, and she looked back at him with a curious expression on her face. Her puzzlement was hardly surprising, since his response had been unplanned. Yet it still felt true. Roland would be fine once either him or Regina or both got to him.

The hallway was dark and sombre, but no enemy was in sight. Things were going well so far - maybe too well? He had barely made three steps when he gasped in pain and grasped his foot. Regina appeared beside him, ready for battle, but no attack came. Robin pulled a jagged shard of glass from the sole of his boot. Dozens of fragments of all shapes and sizes lay strewn across the hallway, shimmering grimly, reflecting pieces of the walls.

"Damn bitch," Regina spat through gritted teeth.

Robin followed her eyes and groaned inwardly: there was a dark red heart lying inconveniently among the sharp-edged remnants of the mirror.

Whose heart was it? Why had it been placed there? Evidence was piling up fast to suggest the Witch was plotting something, and all her little hints had been aimed at Regina. Clearly this was a trap if he'd ever seen one.

"Regi-"

"The dungeons are that way. I need to take care of this first."

"Can't you see this is a trap? This Witch has it in for you!" He couldn't, wouldn't let her rush headlong into some horrid ambush.

"I know," she said simply. Her face darkened as she continued: "And I intend to give her just what she wants - for now, at least."

Surely she couldn't mean that. He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him before he had a chance to speak.

"No time to argue. Now go get your son, I'll be there shortly. This won't last long."

Roland. Roland needed him. He was defenseless. Regina, on the other hand… As he looked on, she picked up the heart from the bed of shards, and cleared a path in the debris with a casual wave of her hand.

"Regina."

She turned, annoyance clear on her face, and her eyes flared. Before she could let out a retort, he said:

"Be careful."

Her features relaxed, and she nodded with a strange glimmer in her eyes.

Robin turned and rushed away the way she had indicated to him. Finally he would get his son back to safety.

* * *

><p>By the time she reached her chamber, Regina had worked up quite the rage. Anger had always been a good place to go from when it came to fuelling her magic, and the Witch's excesses made it superbly easy to sustain the rage. What was she thinking? Who was the Witch to assume she could just throw pieces of Regina's past in her face?<p>

The heart beat away in her hand in rhythm with her heels click-clacking against the marble floor. She burst into the chamber in full stride.

"Enough with the games," she thunder at the room at large. "What do you want?"

"Not so fast, dear. Introductions first."

A figure that hadn't been there before now rose from behind Regina's old dressing table and turned to face her. Flaming red hair contrasted sharply with her skin - green skin. _Great._ But that wasn't all: the impudent bitch was wearing one of Regina's dresses.

"The name's Zelena.

"Forgive me if I don't bother to even pretend to be charmed."

Regina's fingers twitched around the heart. She needed to control herself -it wasn't really the heart they yearned to squeeze, more so the wretched Witch's neck. But that wasn't why she was here now, and moreover, if she succeeded, she'd never know why all this nasty mess had been for.

The Witch smirked at the sight of the nervous twitch, and Regina felt the heart in her hand disappear and reappear in the Witch's. A trickle of ashes issued from her closed fist; the Witch didn't even blink an eye, but kept them fixed on Regina as she squeezed the life out of some unlucky victim.

"Just your old friend, the Cyclops," she shrugged, and smoothed down her dress - Regina's dress. "It looks good on me, doesn't it?" she ran a hand along her hip. "I was beginning to think you might not come," she said as she strolled casually around the chamber. "It almost made me feel…neglected." If it was supposed to be a jibe, it had come somewhat short - something had actually shifted in the Witch's eyes at the words. Perhaps the Witch was telling Regina more than she was intending to, if Regina only paid attention… "Perhaps you were just afraid," the Witch sang inches from Regina's ear.

"Afraid. Of you?" Regina threw back her head and laughed.

"Ah, but you don't know who I am." The Witch stepped towards her abruptly, sticking her sickly green face close to Regina's - so close they were almost nose to nose. Regina didn't flinch. _I believe you just introduced yourself_. Not that it was needed, the green skin was quite a giveaway. The Witch's identity didn't, however, explain why she'd been targeting Regina specifically, and most of all, how in the hell she knew about things from her past no one was supposed to know. "Perhaps I am to be feared. You'd be wise to," the Witch spat.

Regina didn't scare easily, but those little things the Witch had used against her before managed to get under her skin. It was maddening, really, and - yes - scary. Regina balled her fists. She wouldn't make it easy on this shameless intruder. She might have her clothes and her palace, but Regina'd have something to say about it first.

A mighty crash resounded from somewhere beneath them, and the floor shook under Regina's feet. Damn. Either Robin had learnt some ready-to-go magic, or he was in serious trouble. She should be heading down to help, or else he'd probably meet his end sooner than he'd care to. And there was Roland down there, and who knew how many other children. She needed to focus now, not let her anger cloud her judgment. The Witch seemed hellbent on torturing her anyway, so the showdown wasn't probably going anywhere.

"Look," Regina said with her chin stuck up, "I'm fairly certain we've never met, so what you have against me is beyond me." The Witch scoffed, but no matter how curious Regina was, she didn't have time for her deranged explanations now. "But these children have done you no harm, and they're coming out of here now."

Strange - the Witch didn't seem in the least bothered. Perhaps all of this, including the abductions, had just been a ruse?

"See, that's a funny little story," the Witch resumed pacing in circles around Regina.

Regina refused to follow her movements, never turned or craned her neck, but discreetly made sure she stayed remotely within line of sight. It wasn't clever, perhaps - she was actually putting herself at risk - but it was dignified, and showed the Witch wasn't in control as much as she'd have liked to. Of course, some might have said Regina was just letting her pride triumph over reason…but those people weren't there to judge her anyway.

"Apparently, a child should vanquish me." A small laughter escaped the Witch's lips. _Not again. _Hadn't Rumple been enough? "There's a children's books somewhere that says so, did you know that?" Of course Regina bloody knew that, everyone in Storybrooke must have read about the Wicked Witch of the West. "A children's book would say that, of course - it would always say a child."

This was getting ridiculous, clearly the woman was crazy. There was no time to spare for her lunatic babble.

"I don't care," she cut in, stressing each syllable. "We're freeing these children, and making sure you never get anywhere close to them ever again."

"Ah, but I don't care anymore," the Witch scoffed. "Who I'm looking for might not even be a child anymore. Irrelevant, really. I'm looking for a different kind of solution now that you're here - dear."

"Why me?" Regina couldn't suppress.

"You really have no idea, do you?" The superior tone, the jeer, and above all the fact that it had succeeded in making her feel small for a second all contributed to Regina's animosity towards this Witch growing by the second.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"Simple. I'm going to take everything away from you." The accursed greenie didn't move a muscle as she uttered the cold threat.

It might have discomfited her once, but now Regina just felt the hollow place in her heart come to life with renewed pain.

"Too late," she replied, fighting the urge to clutch her chest. "I already have nothing left." Henry, her raison d'etre, was gone forever. So was the life she had tried to build up from scratch in Storybrooke - and failed, to a large extent, but still she would have preferred that life to the Enchanted Forest.

The Witch's face distorted into a grimace. "Oh, but you're wrong. How very silly of you to wallow in self-pity, when you've had everything…" Everything? When on earth had Regina had everything? Not once - that was exactly why she'd cast the Dark Curse. Somewhere behind Regina's indignation and bitterness, the reality of the Witch's utterance dawned on her: the Witch was jealous. Of what? Despite time being short, Regina would have asked, but the Witch spoke again.

"You have more now than before you cast the Curse. You'll see."

That was a threat if Regina had ever heard one. It was her turn now to stroll to the Witch and spit a retort in her face - and she made sure it contained every ounce of contempt and fighting spirit she had in her.

"Bring it."

Oh, what she wouldn't give to wipe that smug smile off that irritating green face. But now was not the time.

That they seemed to agree on at least, for the Witch waved her hand in the air and hopped on the magically summoned broom. How utterly unoriginal. Regina didn't bother stopping her. If the Witch was fleeing the palace, so much better for them. If Regina's suspicions were right, she wouldn't have to look for the bitch later - the Witch would find her.

"Oh, one thing," the irritatingly stoic voice rebounded from the ceiling as the broom headed for the window. "That handsome thief you have with you is most likely in some rather nasty trouble by now. You might want to…ah, give him a hand - sis. Unless you wish the fate of your dear late husband on him, of course."

* * *

><p>Shards of glass and chipped stone flew out of her way as she stormed through the hallways of the palace towards the dungeons. Robin had gotten far enough, for she hadn't come across him yet, but she'd met no enchantments on the way either. That was strange - the Witch leaving a clear path unobstructed by magic or other protective means. Robin had been right, this was highly suspicious. Hopefully, he'd been clever enough to proceed with care.<p>

The Witch's words rang in Regina's ears: _the fate of your dear late husband_… What the hell was that about? What did Robin have to do with any of that? Yet the words gave her a chill, and she hurried down the stairs, blasting an enchanted suit of armour out of her way - her own enchantment, not the Witch's, and Robin seemed to have gotten through this one well enough on his own.

The door to the antechamber stood closed before her. That was peculiar - why would he bother closing it behind him? Regina's senses tingled. The antechamber was directly beneath her chamber - it had to be where she'd heard the crash from. She tried the door - it was sealed by magic. Blood magic. _Damn!_

"Robin?" she called half-heartedly. Which would be the better sign: an answer, or no answer?

"I'm in here," came his muffled voice. It sounded calm enough, and relief washed over her strained nerves momentarily - he was alright, at least for now. "I could do with some help." Calm, but also forced. What on earth was in there?

"I can't get through," she cried in frustration. "It's blood ma-"

The Witch had found a way to get through Regina's blood magic. Regina had to at least attempt to outdo the Witch's. A shred of their conversation floated to the surface of Regina's mind: _sis_. She dismissed it immediately - a word only, but it made no sense whatsoever, so why go there?

She raised her hand and prodded the door with a finger - if it was supposed to work, it would be enough.

The door yielded to her touch.

Regina gasped. Blood magic wasn't supposed to work this way, what the hell was going on?

A low hissing sound reached her ears. An indistinct sense of alarm came to life within her, sending shivers down her spine.

"Regina…?" Robin's voice came from the dark. The torch must have gone out by some accident.

Regina conjured a fireball and peered into the room.

Her blood curdled at the sight.

Robin stood with his back against the wall, sword in hand, but it wasn't doing him much good.

A pit of snakes covered the floor, coiling and uncoiling, hissing aggressively at the intrusion of light, baring their venom-filled fangs.

Regina moaned. Had Robin been bitten yet? _Fool!_ Of course not - if he had, he'd be dead by now. The venom worked within seconds - she knew that better than most. She'd used it before, precisely because it was so fast-acting. Damn witch! But how hadn't the vipers attacked yet? Just then, a golden beast shot forward, attacking Robin's calf with its fangs at the ready. Robin fought back, sending the snake flying with the blade of his sword. The hissing grew louder - the vipers were mad. She had to act fast. It was a miracle already she hadn't come too late.

Regina commanded her emotional turmoil to peace - she needed to focus. One bad move could cost them both their lives.

Triangular heads rose and beady eyes stared into the shadows. There were too many to transfigure fast enough, and most spells she would normally use would provoke them to attack. _Think_. What were they? Vipers. Agrabah vipers. Nocturnal animals. Desert dwellers.

Regina's hands rose in the air, and as they did, a slight breeze rose with them, bringing with it a spray of fine sand. The hiss of the snakes had died out as the wind grew into a strong gale. Grains of sand floated on the air until they were thrown against the walls of the antechamber by a blast of air. The storm died out eventually, gently laying the remaining sand on top of the newly formed, smooth sandy dune in the corner opposite to Robin.

The larger part of the viper nest was now covered in sand. A pair of eyes stared out here and there, invisible to all but those who looked carefully enough. Without a moment's hesitation, Regina summoned one of her trusty fireballs. Bright and larger by the second, it illuminated the room and sent half a dozen snakes into hiding in the sand-hill.

A handful proved more vicious and tenacious, however, and, backing away from the light, inched ever closer to Robin, their venomous fangs at the ready. Robin brandished his sword and struck - one of the vipers coiled helplessly onto the stone floor, its head severed from the body. But there were too many for him to handle. Another pair reared to attack. Regina threw. Fire spilled onto the floor, forming a wall between Robing and the snakes, sending them into rapid retreat. With a quick wave of her hand, Regina smothered the flames. Another flick, and the sand dune disappeared, and its dwellers with it.

Robin stepped away from the wall, his relief obvious. No wonder - he had to be aware what danger he'd just pulled through. "That was close. Good thinking…nice handiwork. Thank you."

Was he really complimenting her magic? He hated it, after all. Well, maybe the circumstances made him appreciate it for once. Hopefully she didn't look too smug. Probably not - the scene had frozen even her blood. The mental image of the den of snakes still made her head spin. _Unless you wish the fate of your dear late husband on him… _How could she possibly know, and why…?

"Are you alright?" he stepped towards her. "The Witch…?"

"Oh, we met. And we shall meet again." That much was clear, if not the whys and hows.

They had more important matters to deal with for the moment: if Robin had been trapped like this, what fate could the children have met? No child should be subjected to this kind of horrors. This Witch had better not made a mistake like that, or Regina would make her wish she'd never started with her in the first place.

"Now let's get your son."


	12. This Way Comes

_Oh look, a long one...it ran away with me a little. On the other hand, a lot happens: introducing Roland, revealing the owner of the red eyes, Oz references, a little shout-out to actual scenes from the show, Regina & Robin cooperation, and the stirrings of something we'll see more of in the next chapter. Reviews are love - many thanks for them all. Happy reading!_

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><p>"Roland?" Robin's voice echoed off the walls.<p>

The darkness was impenetrable, and her magic fireballs ineffectual against it. It was an enchantment she'd heard about, but had never tried herself. Well, now was as good a time as any to attempt the counter-curse.

"Roland!" Desperation was creeping into Robin's voice.

"He can't hear you," Regina said quietly.

"Why not? I can hear you."

"It's part of the magic. A barrier, so to speak," she explained. "It divides outsiders from the hidden object."

"Can you undo it?" His temper was running short, but could anyone blame him?

"Of course."

All wasn't as bright as she was making it sound, though. It was an advanced piece of magic, and even though she was fairly positive she'd manage, it would leave a mark on her, which did not bode well for the upcoming battle. Robin didn't need to know that, however, there was nothing he could do anyway. Hopefully he'd have strength enough to get Roland by himself if some unexpected backlash were to render her incapable of helping.

"Follow the wall," she said. "Keep away form the bars. When you find the door, stop and wait." If they started from opposite entrances, there was no way anyone or anything could slip away in the skirmish, taking Roland along. "When the darkness dissolves, just grab Roland and go. I'll take care of the rest."

For a moment Robin was silent, then his footsteps on the stone revealed he had begun to move away from her. No resistance. He didn't even object to her suggestion, apparently perfectly alright with leaving her behind now that his son was near. The pang of hurt was gone as soon as it had come. It was for the best. Roland needed him. No one would miss her.

Even with closed eyes, she felt the enchantment lifting at the cost of enormous willpower. The silence persisted, however, and for a while she just listened in with closed eyes. Surely by now she had neutralised the magic - what was wrong? She opened her eyes.

The cell on her left was empty. She started along the corridor, her steps and bated breath still being the only sound in the cold dungeons. Could she have done it wrong? Was this two separate enchantments instead of just one?

A crow croaked somewhere.

Regina threw some light into the right-hand cell, but it was empty as well as the ones before. No guards. How peculiar - and suspicious. Was Robin facing the same, or was he meeting any kind of resistance?

There was a yard coming up soon. If the Witch had planned a force to attack, this would be the place. Regina readied herself, then strode on without pause.

There were no guards, no soldiers, no Cyclopes, and no Witch. In the middle of the yard, a large, square cage hung from the ceiling on a chain as thick as her arm, and in it, a dozen children of all ages. A dozen pairs of eyes stared back at her, a dozen pairs of hands were gripping the bars, but not one pair of lips moved. Perhaps they were frightened - anyone would be.

"It's alright, I'm not here to hurt you. We're taking you home, alright?"

There was no answer. The eyes continued to stare.

Regina moved toward them. Hands retracted with unbelievable speed, and the children all huddled together in the middle of the cage, as far away from the bars as possible. _You damned bitch, what have you done to them? _Coming closer, Regina craned her neck to examine the chain, when a pair of wide brown eyes caught hers. They belonged to a little boy with messy hair - the only one who hadn't joined his comrades. It was too dark and too high up to make out much, but he did look about four or five years of age.

"Roland?" she chanced.

The boy nodded, ever keeping his eyes fixed on her.

"I'm Regina," she said.

His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible, and smiled up at him.

"…Papa?" the child breathed almost noiselessly.

"He's here, Roland. He'll be here in a minute."

Where was Robin, what was taking him too long? As if to answer, a distant ring of blade on blade reached them from an adjoining corridor. Robin was having a harder time getting there than she had, but he could hold his own in a fight. Unless there were too many…or magic was involved. But she couldn't rush to his aid now, not with the children so close, so frightened, and so helpless. She had to get them out, and the sooner the better. Then they'd get Robin, and they'd all get the hell out of here.

"Roland," she addressed the child, whose eyes lingered on the dark mouth of the corridor in the direction of the distant fighting. Not only did she have special interest in the boy, since he was the one they had come for above all, but he was also the bravest of the lot - he was clearly taking after his father - and could hopefully get the others to trust her by example. The child's tiny hands curled around the bars more tightly, but he fixed her with those big brown eyes full of curiosity rather than fear.

"I'll make a way down from there for you, alright?"

He nodded, and made to stand up. After a moment's searching in the unstable cage, his little feet found a bar, and he stood looking down at her expectantly.

It had been clear from the start she couldn't bring the cage down without scaring the children even more, if not harming them physically, too. There had to be another way. A small smile played on her lips. She had just the thing.

Regina waved her hand, and a giant slide materialised out of thin air, leading from one of the cage's walls right down to her feet. Another flick of her wrist later, the wall of the cage disappeared.

Roland stared at the slide, trembling slightly - was it fear or excitement? Could magic have scared him? Or did he enjoy slides? This world didn't have playgrounds of the other world's kind, but sometimes you could find a natural one - she herself used to love them as a child.

"How about this: you slide, and I'll catch you," she said to Roland as cheerfully as if they were simply spending the afternoon at a park's playground.

It seemed to work. Roland edged to the slide, sat down, and let his legs hang, pointing towards her. Regina reached towards him in a gesture of encouragement. Roland's fist released the bar he was holding on to. Then his eyes acquired an alarmed look, and he scrambled up again, clenching the bar with both hands.

"It's alright," she said with a note of desperation. He didn't trust her. Why would he? She was a stranger, just another black-clad witch to keep away from in these children's eyes. Robin had been a fool to believe Roland would see a friend in her.

"Buzzing," he cried down to her. He eyed the slide with mistrust. "It's buzzing."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Surely he wasn't implying the slide was buzzing. Unless... What was it the book said? About wolves? And...crows, there were crows under command of the Wicked Witch of the West. And one other species. "Roland? Did you say buzzing? Like...bees?"

Roland nodded, but Regina's eyes had darted elsewhere in the meantime. A black swarming cloud descended over the cage, and Regina saw feet being drawn in as the bundle of scared children drew closer together. But the swarm didn't attack the children. Instead, it floated towards Roland, who watched, transfixed, unable to move. Before Regina had time to think it through, the angry cloud dashed right at the trembling child. Instinct led her, and a memory lodged deeply in her subconscious: a memory of a Scarecrow and his scattered straw. Just as her mind had settled on the image, her magic came to life, and a straw cushion engulfed the small figure of Roland.

A clink of metal on stone made her head turn, and her arm shot upwards, ready to strike. Robin stumbled into the yard, a gashed helmet rolling on the stone floor. Enchanted armour had proven insufficient to stop him. His eyes searched the room feverishly, lingering on the cage - and next moment the cloud of vermin, thrown off by the protective cocoon around Roland, was targeting a new victim. Regina sent a fireball at the cloud but missed, only hitting a few outer ones.

That gave Robin time to recover, though, just as the oversized bees directed their stings at him. Motionless until the very last moment, he then raised both hand above his head, and Regina's second fireball broke just above the shield he was holding up, too weak against its magical enhancement. Not just the fireball, however - the bee swarm, ignorant of the danger and unable to change direction so quickly anyway, hit the shield with the sound of a hailstorm, pelleting the ground with broken stings and black-and-yellow bodies.

"Papa," Roland cried, and Regina's head turned upwards.

Without magical support, the conjured straw had soon dispersed, and Roland was looking down with a mix of terror and longing. Robin was still busy withstanding the onslaught of bees, but the animals were stupid enough to come dashing against the shield, and there weren't many of them left after the suicidal attack.

"Roland," Regina called back. She needed to sound calm and confident, she needed to show him he was safe. "I'll catch you," she assured the child.

With a determined look on his face, Roland sat down on the edge of the slide and pushed himself away with his hands. He rushed towards her, gaining speed, letting out a small squeal. Regina reached for him and snatched him up just in time, scooping him into her arms.

"Well done," she gave him a bright smile. The little boy clung to her, his thin arms wrapped around her neck. Regina rubbed his back gently. The poor child was still trembling, but he wasn't crying. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he felt warm and soft in her arms. Holding him was…nice.

Then Robin appeared at her side, and Roland reached out for him with a cry of joy. Regina let go of the boy as Robin grabbed his son and pressed the child to him. A soft groan escaped Robin, and Regina's heart hurt. She missed Roland's weight in her arms all of a sudden. She missed Henry. She missed hope that they could one day be reunited, that they could share a moment of utter relief and joy like the one she was witnessing. They'd already had that on the way from Neverland, of course, and again just before the New Curse hit. They'd thought they could be happy - she had most certainly believed it for a moment. Wrong again.

What was that? That soft rustling sound?

"Robin," she warned in a low voice. He didn't seem to hear.

Regina listened in, but the only sound now was the whisper of father and son next to her. She had heard it before, though - it had definitely been more than just her imagination.

"Go," she muttered, laying a hand on Robin's arm to catch his attention.

He looked at her with teary eyes, then scanned the surroundings. Their current situation seemed to register at last.

"What?" he asked softly.

_Go_, she mouthed - and the fool shook his head. Didn't he understand this was dangerous? He had his son, what did he care? It wasn't as if he were leaving those children to their fate - she'd stay and fight whatever the hell it was coming upon them this time.

"Roland," she heard him mumble into the child's ear. "We'll leave soon, but we need to get the others first, alright?" The child looked at him but didn't say anything. "We always look after our buddies, remember?" Roland nodded. He seemed about to say something, but he just glanced at the cage, frowned a little, and looked away, his fist curling into Robin's tunic. "Roland, I want you to hide." Robin looked around. "Over there, alright?" He pointed at a heap of broken, overturned furniture in a faraway corner. It was probably the safest choice, if there even was one. Still, Regina had an urge to grab Roland and get him out of here herself. The sound of her name gave her a momentary jolt of surprise. "And only come out for me or Regina, understand?" The child looked at Regina and nodded again.

Once Robin placed him where he'd chosen for a hideaway and turned his back on it, Regina discreetly placed a protection charm on Roland's temporary hideout.

It was just in time, for before Robin rejoined her, there was that faint rustling sound again - only not so faint anymore.

Robin paused, looking around, then fixing her eyes on her with a question clear in them.

"I think it's crows," she said.

"Crows. Splendid. Will they be larger than life, just like the bees?"

"Maybe." She really had no way of knowing what enchantment the Witch had chosen for these creatures, but a little straw and an enchanted shield would not be enough this time. In the story, they'd peck out one's eyes…

The rustle was growing, with more and more birds adding to the sound, but still no sight of one. Robin drew his bow, but even his skills were useless when the target was invisible.

"Can't you make it - lighter?" he growled in frustration.

She'd do just that.

"Ready?" she muttered back, rolling up her sleeves. The crows would prove to be tougher than the bees, though how she knew it remained a mystery for now. Well, maybe for one, they were playing the waiting game, which was to undermine the foe's morale. Hopefully it wasn't working too well, although truth be told she wasn't the most patient person in the world, and Robin seemed to be on his toes for once, too.

Regina summoned a purplish ball of light, then sent it across the air. As it made its way around the yard, following the walls, torches sprang to life with bright purple flames, and illuminated the space up to the very ceiling.

The ceiling remained black, but it wasn't for lack of light. Rows and rows of large dark-feathered birds sat perched on ledges, their beady eyes staring down at the pair of them. They didn't show signs of distress at the onset of light - quite the contrary. An eerie cackle rose form their ranks, and a few waved their wings or ruffled heir feather.

A party of fifteen separated from the mass and began their descent in decreasing circles. An arrow flew up, and another two followed in rapid succession. Three birds fell just as Regina's spell found another one, and another one. Arrows and bolts of magic were soon flying through the air, their paths criss-crossing, their victims landing at their feet with a soft thud. Every time a party was vanquished, another one swooped down, and the rest of the mob cackled and cawed with increased gusto. There were so many of them - too many to take down one by one if they attacked together. Maybe these groups of fifteen…but how long until the beasts understood that? Perhaps she was giving them far too much credit.

Much to her dismay, she was proven right shortly. Half a dozen mobs later, the attacks came to a lull. Robin nocked another arrow - good, he wasn't fool enough to rejoice this was over when the danger was only changing its form. Next moment, the rustle and croaking reached a deafening velocity, and a black cloud descended on them. Robin, who had been standing back to back with her just a second ago, was suddenly out of sight, obstructed by wings and beaks and sharp claws. Regina tried desperately to keep the birds at bay with fire, but even if the birds nearest to her got scared, it mattered little, for they had nowhere to escape with their comrades pushing them down on the pair of them. Somewhere near her, Robin cursed. Whatever he was doing, he was still fighting, although with how much success was questionable.

Regina's mind worked feverishly as she struggled to keep up the fiery shield she'd produced. What were these crows in the story? Talking birds. Clever birds. Fallen at the hands of a single Scarecrow. But there were only forty of them then. He twisted their necks one by one.

Twisted their necks. Regina cackled - the sound merging strangely with the cackle of the birds. Well, a few of them at least wouldn't be cackling long anymore. It was just a simple movement of the wrist - she'd done it before - and a bird fell with a thud, its neck broken. Unlike the Scarecrow, she didn't need to catch them first - if she aimed carefully, she could get them right in the air - and get them she did. The heap of dead birds grew by the second, and she even caught a glimpse of Robing once, brandishing a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, cutting the head off a bird in flight just as she was looking. _Good_.

But the birds were way too clever. They rose into the air and began dive-bombing them with the severed heads of their own dead. Regina covered her head foolishly as the first feathery head with gaping eyes and sharp beak landed at her feet.

Then she was swept aside and pushed against a wall. She fought briefly, but her fists had never been her most potent weapon, so she didn't really do much harm in the short flurry - which was all for the best, because the green of the tunic was familiar, of course, and the moment she noticed she stopped raining with fruitless punches down on Robin. Shielded by his body form the birds' attacks, she forced herself to think. The birds would soon come up with a new strategy once they noticed their targets were rendering the attack fruitless.

Maybe if she could just earn them some time to get the other children and run…maybe she could do just that.

Slipping from Robin's hold, she targeted the chain holding the cage, and sent a shock of energy its way. The slide disappeared, and as the shock of magic broke through the chain, the cage tumbled down, rushing towards the ground. The crows sensed the danger and attempted to flee from harm's way, but for some of them it was too late - they were crushed by the rushing bars. The rest, however, rose to the ceiling, regrouping for attack.

Regina summoned two forces of energy - but then her knees buckled and her arms trembled. In a split second, dozens of thoughts raced through her mind. _No…not now_. They were so close, she couldn't fail now. _Just a little longer, please. I need to get those children to safety_. She made another attempt, this time focusing on only one charm at a time. The cage would hit the ground in a second, and the children wouldn't survive the impact of she didn't do something. They should have just gotten Roland… Now it was too late.

Henry could be one of those children.

A surge of magic ran through her body, and she released all its power in one blast. The cage landed with a crash and the walls had fallen in a jumble - but the bottom was intact, and so were the children. With a mighty effort, Regina sent another blast upwards, praying it would work but not daring to look. Angry cawing met the cast spell, and an arrow whizzed past her ear. Regina raised her head to see a stray crow fall to the ground with an arrow through its neck, and above it, its brethren imprisoned under the ceiling by means of the strong magical web she had conjured.

Regina exhaled. They did it.

Breathing heavily, she made to collect herself. Robin had approached the children, helping the braver ones up and towards the door. Then they'd get Roland from the magically protected hideout just a few steps from her, and-

Something tugged at her dress, and Regina whipped around, her nerves on edge.

"Roland!" she gasped. The little boy had already left the protection of the hideout - but when? It didn't matter - he looked perfectly fine. He must have only just run out and to her. She crouched down to him, a question ready on her lips, but the child was faster. He leaned to her with an urgent expression - almost a frightened one.

"Not him," Roland whispered in her ear. "Not the big one."

Regina looked towards the group of children. They were all standing by the cage, ready to go, except for one last boy Robin was just about to approach. The boy was about Henry's age. Of course they couldn't leave him behind.

"Don't wake it," Roland whispered again.

The boy couldn't possibly be sleeping after such a racket. Indeed, he wasn't. It had to be the shock speaking.

Regina held Roland's hands in hers.

"It's alright, we'll get you all out of here, ok?"

Robin reached to help the boy up as she spoke. Roland tugged at her hand nervously and stared wide-eyed. What was he so afraid of?

He'd said 'it'. Don't wake _it_.

"Papa!" Roland cried.

Robin had jumped back from the boy and looked around frantically. He stood alone, the other children having disappeared - probably into the dark hallway. Something was happening with the lone boy - the one Roland had warned them about and they'd misread the warning for shock. Now an eerie sight was upon them: within seconds, the boy was sprouting a tail, wings, and claws. His features changed and so did his build, dark hair shot out of his skin, and he uttered an obnoxious shriek.

Robin swung his sword but missed as the beast took flight. It swooped down on him, then rose back in the air just as Robin was about to land a blow.

Regina turned to Roland, who was rooted to the spot, and grabbed him with haste. She needed to get him to safety: the hallway or the enchanted hideout, whichever she could get to first. The monkey - or whatever the hell it was - was floating in the air, eyeing her with bloodshot eyes. It shot towards them. Regina was ready, however, and sent a blast of magic at it. The beast was faster, dodged, then continued its advance.

"Get down!"

Regina acted immediately, dropping to the ground with Roland wrapped safely in her cloak, shielding his little body with her own. A rush of air cooled her neck, and a sharp pain in her arm made her cry out. She let go of Roland, ready to be snatched up in the air by the monster, but no such thing happened. Instead, a mighty shriek cut across the air, and she looked up to see the beats thrashing around with an arrow through its shoulder.

Robin's timely action, which saved them for the moment, proved too little against the monkey though. Realising it couldn't get the arrow out, it turned its focus back on Regina. Roland scrambled backwards, and the frantic look in his eyes woke a cold rage in her. How dare she send minion like this, disguise them, and use them to terrorise these children?

Regina sprang to her feet, shaky as she was, and glowered at the approaching beast. With a ghastly shriek, it launched against her again. One, two, three arrows shot up in the air, but only one even grazed the agile creature, and it continued to hurtle towards her and Roland. This time Regina was ready for it, though. What had attacked her had been an awe-inspiring beast; what landed in her hands a moment after she dispatched the spell - a cuddly stuffed monkey.

A smirk settled on her face at the sight. She shot Robin a glance - he was on his feet, so there wasn't cause to worry. She turned to Roland, the monkey in her hands.

"See?" she said softly, adopting a cheerful tone she had used with the slide before. "Not so scary. Now you have a new toy."

Her smile wavered a little as Roland eyed the monkey with a little suspicion. Had it not worked? Was he still afraid of it?

Roland looked up from the stuffed animal and fixed her with those big brown eyes. "He's shot," he complained.

Regina chuckled. She ran a hand over the plushie. The arrow disappeared, and the holes filled in. She handed the toy to the awestruck little boy.

"As good as new," she smiled.

"Roland," Robin breathed as he snatched the boy from the ground and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"I've got a new toy, Papa," the child said proudly.

Regina's smile broadened. It was amazing how quickly children could recover sometimes. If there was the slightest chance Roland could escape possible nightmares after this horrid experience, all the better for it.

The children were waiting huddled together in the hallway. She hurried forward as Robin, with Roland in his arms, stopped to coax the scared, mistrustful bunch onward. Her knees were wobbly as she braved the steps, and there seemed not a shred of power left in her. There'd better be no more obstacles… She'd make sure to clear the path before Robin and the freed children followed.

Where she was headed next, she was asking for trouble. The Witch might have seemed intent on leaving, but it was well possible Regina'd find her back in her chamber once again. But she needed to get there, nonetheless - she needed to gather all the magic she could reasonably carry in case she needed it in the future, which was entirely too possible. Robin would get the children out while she did so, and she'd join them later - he wouldn't like what she was up to anyway. Besides, he had just been reunited with his son - no one in their right mind would waste time wondering about her whereabouts in such a moment. She was on her own.

* * *

><p>The night air was fresh and smelled of smoke. Torches flickered in the courtyard, and parents worried sick swooned with relief as they rushed to reclaim their lost children. They'd all had at least one parent make a desperate attempt at freeing them, either by offering ransom or themselves in exchange, and the Witch'd had them all jailed until Robin'd freed them on his way to the dungeon yard. He watched the teary-eyed families slowly scatter as they set out on their way home.<p>

Robin stroked Roland's hair, relishing the touch of it, the feel of his son in his arms, safe and - more or less - sound. Oh, how he'd missed him, what a torture it had been! His heart seemed on the verge of bursting with love.

Yet something was off.

He watched as the last family made its way through the gate, in an apparent rush to get off the accursed premises as soon as possible. How was it possible, though? How could they just - go? There had been a protective shield raised around the palace. Perhaps it only worked one way…or maybe not?

"Roland, have you seen Regina?" Roland shook his head, then rested it on Robin's shoulder again. He was trying to stay up, but would probably doze of in a matter of minutes. Robin wished for nothing more than putting him to sleep and watching him for hours, making up for all those days they'd spent separated.

She should be here by now - she had gone first, after all. So where could she be? When they were leaving the dungeons, she was barely standing up - she'd of course done everything to keep that well concealed, but nevertheless she had been exhausted, and the idea of her roaming the palace on her own was deeply troubling. Surely she hadn't done anything foolish…or dangerous. Who was he kidding? Regina was beyond doubt the most obstinate and quick-tempered person he had ever had the fortune of meeting.

Robin looked around. One of the prisoners was tagging along, and it turned out she'd lived in the palace for years and knew of a secret chamber she was planning to hide in with her daughter for the night. The woman immediately agreed to keep Roland with them while Robin was away.

_Regina, where the hell are you?_

This was a terrible time to have to leave Roland's side, and on top of worry, Robin had annoyance to cope with. She could have at least said something. They were supposed to work together after all. Well, they had. She'd now fulfilled her part of the deal - even done more than he could have expected. If someone had until now shirked his commitment, it was him - there hadn't been much information relayed about the Witch from his side. That would change, of course, he had no intention of going back on his word, only he had focused so hard on Roland, and his information wasn't immediately usable anyway…

A blast of icy wind made the hair at the back of his neck stand up. _Damn_. His senses prickled. Something was amiss. This wasn't an ordinary blast of wind. If they were lucky, it had been Regina's doing. If not…

For an unguarded moment, he saw her on a rearing grey, jumping a hurdle, wielding a fireball, outsmarting snakes and bees and crows, holding Roland with the protectiveness of a lioness.

His throat tightened and his pace quickened. He stormed past shards of glass in the hallway with his sword at the ready, and followed the corridor into the heart of the palace. Experience of a thief had taught him how palaces were built, where the royal quarters were usually positioned - and that they were mostly protected. The latter might not be an issue if Regina had indeed come this way - the Witch's charms would be undone and Regina would have had no time - or, possibly, worryingly, energy - to spare to put up her own.

The large double door loomed before him, dark and emanating cold - and slightly ajar. The torches were all out. Cold crept into his bones, and Robin broke into a run. When he was only a few steps away, a wail issued frpm the chamber, shrill at first, then in changed into a gurgling moan.

Robin broke into the room at full sprint, looking around wildly. Regina was nowhere in sight, but something else was: a peculiar darkness looming over something on the floor, hidden behind the large four-poster bed. As Robin blinked, the shape moved, and Robin found himself staring into a pair of grim red eyes. The face of whatever the monster was turned away, and a trickle of…something bright and misty issued from its mouth. No, not from its mouth - into it.

A wave of shock rattled him, and his legs moved of their own volition. He raised the sword high above his head and struck down on the spectre. Yet at the contact of metal and ghostly black, the thing merely shrugged it off. Robin couldn't defeat it, and he should have known - this was it, the soul-sucker demon Mulan had mentioned to him once. Nothing could vanquish what was already dead.

But Regina…no, he couldn't just leave her, of course he wouldn't, even though he had no clue how to deal with this monster, try he would.

The spectre floated in the air and lowered itself above the object that had to be Regina. Robin swung his sword again, even though it would be to no avail - his mind worked feverishly, grasping at straws, but even those were too few and too shabby to hold on to. Would Regina know what to do? Could magic be the answer? It didn't matter, because neither of them was in any shape to perform any right now. With Regina out of the game, there was no one here this time to conjure a sandstorm or raise a wall of fire.

_Fire_.

The blasted torches were out all along the corridor, but perhaps there was something left in here. His eyes darted across the room as he swung and swung his sword at the wraith, barely succeeding in keeping it away from Regina. The grate was cold and dead with not a distant memory of a fire. _Damn!_ Perhaps a candle, then? Robin's heart leapt as his eyes found a flickering light at the dressing table. The wraith was beginning to lose interest in his feeble attempts at delaying it. Robin grabbed a dead torch form its holder and held it to the candle. _Come on!_ The light danced around the torch but wasn't catching. _Come on, light up!_

The wraith closed in on the unconscious form of Regina on the floor. This was the last chance, if he couldn't get the torch to burn, he'd just have to risk pestering the damned ghost with just his blade - probably with less and less success. He couldn't wait any longer. _Light up, damn you!_ He snatched the torch away from the humble candle, and was blinded by a flame suddenly springing to life. It had worked.

Robin let out an elated shout as he waved the flaming torch through the air. The wraith shrank away as the flame licked the black folds of its rotten cloak. Robin leapt forward, attacking again and again, pushing the wraith further back, away from him, away from Regina. Then the wraith's eyes glowed a brighter red - so bright it threatened to split his skull with its intensity - and, with one last hungry look towards Regina's body, whizzed out through the window with a mighty whoosh.

Robin slid the torch in a holder and rushed to her side. Regina lay lifeless on the floor as she'd landed, entangled in her own cloak, her eyes closed, and her dark, loosened hair framing her ashen face. Robin grabbed her hand and searched for a pulse, barely breathing as he did. There it was. _Thank heavens_.

"Regina," he implored, but she didn't stir. He snatched the wineskin from his belt, dripped a few drops of water on his hand, and washed her face carefully. _Come on, wake up_. She had to wake. This was bold, audacious Regina - she wouldn't give up so easily, she had to wake. She had to.

"Regina!" he called again, more forcefully, and shook her slightly - but still nothing happened.

They said a soul-sucker didn't kill one but 'just' removed one's soul - a fate worse than death. There'd been this stream of weird substance floating between the wraith and Regina when he'd entered…. Was he too late? No, that couldn't be!

He wrapped his arms around her and brought his face close to hers. He listened. Her weak, interrupted breathing barely registered, yet the feel of it on his cheek made his heart clench. Maybe if he only got her out of here… Perhaps some leftover of the wraith's presence lingered even after it had gone, making recovery impossible.

Robin held Regina closer and pressed her to him, ready to carry her, and made to stand up when he felt her body spasm against his. What was this? Did he hurt her? He brushed the hair from her face just in time to see her eyes flicker open.

"Regina…" he breathed, overflowing with relief. Then a shred of panic returned to him: she was alive, but was she…alright?

Her eyes darted from his face to the ceiling to the door, and back to him again.

"Where is it?" she whispered -but only barely, and shifted in his arms - but only barely.

"Gone," he said, squeezing her hand. He could only imagine her confusion and shock. But she was safe now, and Robin couldn't stop the smile form spreading on his face.

"How?"

"Fire."

She nodded, and let her eyes close again for a moment.

"Why'd you come back?" she whispered after a while.

She couldn't possibly be serious. Did she really think he cared so little about her that he'd leave her behind? What a terrible thought. He was still having trouble breathing through the emotional upheaval. Did she not understand?

Understand what, though?

Robin looked down at her face. Colour was slowly returning to her cheeks, but her eyes were still closed. Strands of her hair were wrapped around his forearm, soft and silky. It was only then that he became aware of the feel of her in his arms. The fabric of her dress brushed against his skin, but that was nothing - he was still holding her hand. His skin tingled and warmed beyond reasonable as he continued to hold her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him strangely - he still hadn't answered her question.

"We missed you," he said simply. "Why did you come back here?"

He frowned: it hadn't occurred to him before, but perhaps she wanted to be left behind. She'd fulfilled her part of the deal after all. Yet Robin had somehow, at some point, come to believe they'd stay a team even after recovering Roland. Perhaps she had different plans. His heart sank.

"I…" she hesitated. Their eyes locked, and he could swear he could almost see himself reflected in the brown depths of those eyes of hers. He had no thought of looking away. They were such enticing eyes, they seemed to run rich and deep, and made him see what they meant by saying that eyes were a window to a person's soul. For a long moment, she held his gaze, then her eyes widened as a shadow of panic crossed them. "I wanted to retrieve something," she finished, looking away, and wriggled free of his arms. Robin let go immediately, though not with a certain indistinct sense of loss. Her eyes darted to the dressing table. "It's still there, right?"

"Is what there?" It had to be important, judging by the look of her.

She made to stand up but stumbled. Robin grabbed her hand while she steadied herself, and after a moment she slipped away and crossed to the dressing table. She gave no sign of weakness, but her gait still bore remnants of her plight - which she was reluctant to admit to, apparently. Such stubbornness - foolish. Such tenacity - admirable. Regina leaned on the table, supporting herself cleverly, and rummaged about its contents.

"Damn! It's gone."

"What is it?"

"My sleeping potion. Someone took it!" Anger flared in her and coloured her cheeks crimson. It was a welcome sight after the whey complexion of shortly before. "Wraiths hardly have need for such things, or the means to carry them away."

"I saw no one else." So that's what she'd come back for? Magic? What ever could Regina possibly want with a sleeping potion? Perhaps to use it against the Witch. Well, they couldn't afford to waste resources, whatever they be.

"Anything else gone?"

"No, just the one thing. It's hard to make, I'm probably the only one left alive to know how to."

That didn't bode well - if it was dangerous in Regina's hands, it was an even bigger threat in the enemy's. They were going to have to be all the more careful.

"Can you make a new one?"

"No, I have no more ingredients," she smashed a small vial against the wall - but that was as much as she had energy to spare on. Her shoulders sagged slightly. "I used them all because the ready product's easier to carry around than the ingredients."

She raised her eyes from the poor contents of the table and fixed him with a gaze.

"Roland?" she asked.

Robin willed them all out of here stronger than ever.

"You know that hidden chamber by the courtyard?"

"Of course." She looked about the room once more, shook her head slightly, sending her hair trailing down her back, grabbed the torch Robin had lit after so much struggle, and made towards the door. "Let's go, then. Time for you to properly enjoy your son."


	13. Turning Tide

_This has been one of the most anticipated chapters for me to write, so I'm quite anxious to see how you guys like it. There's some slightly coarser language - well the word "damn" makes several appearances, just in case you have issues with that, you have been warned. Thanks for your support so far!_

* * *

><p>A peal of laughter rang through the small stone-carved room as Roland was tossed in the air, then landed safely in Robin's arms again.<p>

The little boy had woken from a light though so much needed sleep as soon as they entered the secret chamber, and clung to his father ever since. Robin ruffled his hair playfully, making Roland chuckle and hide his face into Robin's shoulder.

Regina wrung her hands, her eyes hot form a sharp stinging sensation. It would be so much easier to not witness this joyous reunion. Everything she saw, everything she heard, everything those two felt - she would never have. Yet every time she forced herself to look away, her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to Roland's tired but twinkling eyes, or Robin's face glowing with happiness. It was bizarre, but the clichéd metaphor was actually accurate. The broad smile seemed to be glued to his face even as he caught her eye and gave her a full smile. At the same time, a tear rolled down is cheek, and Regina turned away - but continued to see their image in the stone floor she was staring at anyway. This Robin was almost a different man to the one she'd seen so far - and yet he had never been so familiar. She had never understood him more than at this particular moment. His son meant the world to him, and without him, he would be lost. He deserved this. They both did. But that didn't stop the pain tearing at her insides, nor did it put out the sparks of envy singing her chest with every breath she took.

"Papa, I don't want to go to sleep," Roland's voice rang through the stuffy air in response to a few words his father had whispered in his ear.

"Shhh, someone's sleeping," Robin said, pointing out the little girl and her mother curled up in one corner.

"Sorry," Roland muttered in a child's whisper - a whisper so loud Regina still heard every single syllable clearly. "But we should play. You were away long."

Emotions played on Robin's face in rapid succession. For a moment, he said nothing, just held Roland closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"We will, I promise. But first you need to sleep."

Roland's eyes were barely open to a slit, yet the child still kept protesting.

"And you promise you won't leave?"

"We're going back to the Merry Men together, alright? How d'you like that?"

"Very."

"Good. But we can only set out once you've woken up. So you need to go to sleep first, right?"

Robin carried Roland back to the hides strewn on the floor and covered him with a warm fur. The child's dark eyes peeked out from above the rim, darting around the room.

Regina quickly cast down her eyes and pretended to not be there. He was adorable, and she'd felt very protective of him down in the dungeons - it shocked her how much. She smiled at the memory of his arms around her neck, seeking safety in her embrace. For some reason, he trusted her, not simply with a child's innocence - he trusted Regina despite what he had just been put through by the green bitch, who must have seemed similar in his eyes. Perhaps that was why Regina had clung to him so. But that was over now. Roland was safe and he had his father, she was nothing to him.

And she…she had Henry. Sort of. He might not remember her, but she still remembered him, and it was him her heart was overflowing with love for. Nothing could ever replace him…

Was that it, was she seeing a smaller version of Henry in Roland? Probably. Although there were plenty of differences, of course. It didn't matter, anyway. Whatever it all was, it made her heart hurt even more. It would be best to distance herself from the boy. Children had been known to end up all the worse for being around her too much anyway.

"Regina," Roland said aloud, forgetting to whisper. He'd found her in the small confines of the chamber, of course, no matter how hard she'd been trying to blend with the wall behind her.

She could just ignore him…except she couldn't. Instead, she raised her head, her mind a jumble. She met Robin's eyes in passing - he still had a smile playing on his lips. Heavens, why was she so full of tension? Was she overreacting? Was this crazy? Roland was just a little boy after all.

He wriggled under the fur and rubbed his eyes. He was barely awake, but he was a tenacious little guy.

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked. "Please?" The word came out sounding more like "pwease", and it started an emotional meltdown the magnitude of which weighed her down in a matter of a second.

Robin's smile faded a little at the sight of her, and after giving her a concerned look that only made her want to disappear even more, he turned to Roland.

"Maybe another time, buddy. How about I tell you one now?"

Concern or not, considerateness or not, it mattered nothing to her. She didn't even care whether he'd interpreted her distress correctly or mistook it for ruthlessness - in fact, it was hard to tell which would be the worse. It didn't matter. She just needed out, and fast.

Robin's quiet, soothing voice filled the room: "Once upon a time, there was…"

But what there was Regina would never know, because she dashed out of the chamber into the night.

* * *

><p>With her ears buzzing and her head as good as bursting, she paced the courtyard up and down, swallowing mouthfuls of cold air, forcing chaos out and begging for calm to return - but this had never been easy for her. She needed to stop this whirlwind of feelings she didn't know how to deal with. She wasn't here to play happy family with Roland and Robin. She'd come to help rescue him - nothing more, nothing less.<p>

Had her cold response to his perfectly sweet request hurt the child?

Regina groaned in frustration. Her knuckles where white with effort, her fingers clenched around the fabric of her dress. She forced them to relax their grip, and ran her fingertips across the shabby paper of the picture she treasured so much. It was the only place where she and Henry were and always would be together - besides, of course, in her heart.

Despite the agony, there was also something nice and warm tugging at her heart. Down in the dungeons, when she'd thought she couldn't go on anymore, that magic had failed her once again and she'd in turn fail the children she'd set out to free, the mere though of Henry had brought about a surge of love so powerful it pumped new strength into her veins. _Magic is about emotion._

_Love is strength_.

If only it didn't come with such unbearable pain, such devastating purposelessness.

Still the Witch believed Regina had something left she would miss. _I'm going to take everything away from you_. She'd lost so much. Daniel, Daddy, Mother, and now Henry - her entire family was gone. For a very long time, she had even lost herself, and even now it was hard to sculpt herself into a Regina she'd come to want to be. When the New Curse had hit, she'd believed everything had come to an end for her.

_I'm going to take everything away from you_.

What could it possibly be? What did she have left? Was there anything that had made her feel even remotely happy, or at least mitigated her sorrow, in the past weeks?

Snow. Tinkerbell. Granny. Robin. Roland. The woman who was staying the night in the secret chamber with them, and had insisted on thanking Regina a dozen times over for her daughter's return. People who didn't write her off as a villain anymore.

Acceptance.

The realisation made Regina stop in her tracks. She'd never have thought this could happen, but it seemed to be true: they really were slowly growing to accept her - and she them. And that meant something to her. A small gasp escaped her. Only now did she see how much that meant to her, and how much she wanted it.

Was this what the Witch had in mind? Was she trying to undermine what little hard-earned trust people were beginning to have in Regina, to foil her attempts at improvement? The atrocities committed in Regina's name would certainly support the theory.

But what about the unicorn, and the Agrabah vipers? Those had been for Regina only. They'd been meant to unnerve her - and they had, to no end. The memory of the staged replays still brought cold beads of sweat to her brow. The heart marked the beginning of her descent into darkness, and the vipers were the administrators of her first plotted murder - not an impulsive, heat-of-the-moment kill, but one done in cold blood.

She'd done it to be free. But she'd had no love lost for Leopold. He should have seen her reservations, her anguish, and her misery. He was supposed to be a good man, and he'd done nothing but punish her for the unhappiness he had also played a part in.

Why did the Witch want to remind her of this?

To make her lose heart? To make her feel small and lost, the way she had when she became Rumple's apprentice, and Leopold's wife? Or to show her that her past would always haunt her and hold her back? That she was a villain, no matter what she did?

Regina sank onto the edge of the fountain. The marble was cold and lifeless against her body. She felt the same on the inside. The stone was cracked, the varnish chipped, and the tinkling water had long since dried up. The once gorgeous fountain was just a sad ghost of its past glory. Regina ran her palm along the jagged edge of the basin. _You and me, we're the same_.

On closer look, however, the mechanism didn't seem to be irreparable. If someone only bothered to clean it up a little and set it to work, water would pour out of the taps and bring the fountain back to life. The cracks would always be there, but they could be fixed. The marble would bear scars, but they'd be signs of survival. It'd still work as good as new, and be all the more intriguing for the stories it carried.

Perhaps she could be fixed, too. Perhaps she could fix herself, despite what the Witch was apparently suggesting.

Why would the Witch do it all? As far as Regina was concerned, they had never met before. The Witch had called her "sis" – Regina had heard it well, even though she'd pretended otherwise. It was rubbish, of course - she had no family left, and certainly not a sister. It had always been just her - and heavens, how many times she'd wished she'd had someone! With Cora's iron rule over her life, Regina had never been lucky enough to even have a friend, not to mention a sister. Surely she'd know. Her mother had kept a lot of things to herself, but even she would not have kept this information from Regina...surely...she wouldn't.

The way Regina saw it, there was no reason at all for this Witch to hate her more than the next person hated the Evil Queen. But that wasn't it. Whatever the green bitch had against her was personal. If only Regina knew what it was, she would be able to defend herself better.

Steps approached from behind, and Regina tensed. It could only be Robin - or a foe. She wasn't in the mood for either. She'd had enough fighting for one night. Robin would ask questions, and soul-searching was difficult enough to do just in her mind.

"May I?"

By the sound of it, he'd come all the way to the fountain. Despite herself, she was glad it wasn't another flying monkey - or so it appeared. The thought amused her, yet made her forehead crease - if the beats could take on the form of a child, they could probably take on the form of anyone else as well. They'd better keep that in mind.

"Suit yourself."

Robin sat, running a hand along the cracked stone basin much like she had done just moments before. It left her feeling strangely exposed. Exposure was always dangerous. Like fighting, there'd been plenty of this for a night as well. Robin seemed to have been noticing more than most, she'd read it in his look now and again. He'd seen too much of her before tonight, but even more now. Maybe a tiny niche of her heart was glad for it, but that wasn't the prevailing part anyway.

The wretched vipers - they'd made it all worse.

Regina rose and, without looking at him once, walked all the way to the edge of the terrace.

"How do you people deal with this team work thing all the time?" she burst out. "At least when I worked alone I didn't have to keep looking over my shoulder worrying about someone all the time. It's driving me crazy!"

"It has its perks," Robin said. "Someone's constantly looking over their shoulder to check on you, for one."

The wraith's cape hovered over her face once more, those eyes haunting her still, and she shook the memory off. What the wraith had to offer was a fate that had no appeal to her whatsoever, even in the most crushed state - you never knew what would happen to you after that demon was finished devouring your soul.

"Thank you for that," she muttered.

"And you, for protecting Roland."

Regina finally turned to him. Now was her time to see straight into his heart. When he talked about Roland, or looked at him, or ached for him - she understood. Even now she understood the depth of his gratefulness - perhaps that was why she succumbed to the urge to look away. So she nodded, and kept her head down.

"You saved him. From nightmares as well. He's asleep curled up with his monkey."

There was a smile in his voice, and indeed it was hard not to smile at the image of the child snuggled up with the toy she'd procured for him by such unusual means - one of her better ideas. Roland had seen the bees, true, but those had been done away with fairly smoothly, and perhaps the only consequence would be some fear of the insect. But from his hideout, the child hadn't seen the bloody death of the crows or the blood-curdling den of snakes, so banishing his fear of the winged monster had seemed like a good idea.

Robin stood up and began to walk towards her, and presently his boots came in sight as her head was still bowed. She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to talk to him - but her eyes darted up to meet his anyway. That niche in her heart was supposed to be negligible, so why was it winning out?

"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable…for whatever reason."

_Then you shouldn't have come here_. But come he had. It shouldn't matter - he hadn't even done anything upsetting, really.

"I guess I'm not used to people expressing gratefulness towards me - or having any reason to feel the need to, for that matter." This time they did have a reason, but that still didn't change the fact that she had no idea how to handle it.

His look lingered, and although it wasn't prying per se, it still seemed to be burning holes into her. Inconceivably, though, she couldn't tear her eyes from him. Then Robin reached towards her in a smooth motion, and his fingers tangled in her hair - she still hadn't had the chance to fix it back into the updo ever since they'd left the wraith-marked chamber behind. A slight chill ran through her. What…? He tucked the strand of hair back to place and held up a small budding twig between his fingers. She caught the small sigh too late to stop it. He'd only removed a twig from her hair, that was all. Well, what had she thought it had been?

A small spark of panic flared up inside her, but there was something else, too - and that was even scarier, so scary she was forcing it to the very edge of her being even now.

Robin's look shifted for a moment and indicated the whole wide world, for all she could tell.

"Did you remove it?" he asked softly.

Her mind was blank.

"The protection shield….?" he added.

"I- I removed it on the way to my chamber... so everyone could come and go."

Why had she stuttered? It hadn't been an invasive question. There'd been no threat whatsoever in it. Then why was she so damn terrified?

Robin let the little twig fall, and Regina followed its path as it landed at their feet.

"Are you alright?"

She looked at him, searching for some hidden meaning in his eyes but finding none. What was he saying? Oh, the shield. He was asking about the protection charm - it had been probably what had drained her last power reserves before the wraith had attacked. He was just being considerate.

"Of course." The words came out hoarse. _Just_ considerate? People weren't usually that, either. Then again, very few had ever stood this close to her, too. "Of course, I'm fine."

But her voice was still funny. Robin must have thought so, too, for he tilted his head slightly with a curious look. He brought his hand to her face. What, another twig? It seemed unlikely, and yet what else- ?

A finger caressed her face, and his thumb travelled down to her chin. Regina froze - only her hands shook a little. Even that stopped, however, when his hand brushed against hers. He searched her face, possibly for a response, but she was too stunned to react in any way. Robin slipped his hand into hers. The contact finally unfroze her again, but instead of slipping away like she should, she let her hand rest in his and let the warmth flood her. She should just…she should really not…but… He smelled like forest, fresh and woodsy, and his eyes looked so alive. And then there were his lips… His fingers still traced her cheek and jaw, and she found herself leaning into his touch.

A low, barely audible hum shook them both awake. Robin's hand snapped in the air as he caught something small and almost invisible in the dark in his now closed fist.

"Just a bee," he shrugged with a small smile, though he'd barely looked, and he opened his fist to allow her a peek.

Regina saw very little, though that had probably even less to do with the actual line of sight and more with the rushing sense of doom descending upon her. It was an insect of the regular size, and Robin set it free.

Meanwhile, Regina turned her back on him, crossed to the fountain and leaned on it.

What had _that_ been all about?

They'd talked, and then he'd removed a twig from her hair - that was all. That was no reason to freak out. Those things happened all the time, and they didn't mean a thing.

When was the last time something like this happened to her?

They'd only talked.

And held hands. And he stroked her face. And she let it happen, and she leaned to him until they were so close their breaths mingled. If it hadn't been for that stupid bee, they might have actually… Wait, what? They might have what?

_Kissed. We might have…kissed._

Was he a good kisser? Probably. Those lips of his…

Regina gripped the cold marble of the fountain.

_Damn._ She liked him. _Oh, damn_. When had this happened? It had been a while. The signs had all been there, except she didn't want to see them.

"Regina? Anything wrong?"

So what did she do now? Did she bolt?

"No," she raised her head defiantly, only to find him looking her straight in the face. When did he get there? And just how readable had her face been in those unguarded moments? "I…" Her cheeks burned. _Oh, for heavens' sake_. What was she, a smitten teenager?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're feeling somewhat awkward right now, milady." The impish glint in his eyes and his half-grin were vast evidence of a jibe, but instead of some sharp-witted, or even flirtatious retort, Regina found herself too busy fighting the urge to caress those dimples of his.

What the hell was wrong with her? This had certainly not happened before. Was this getting worse? Or was it just because she'd finally admitted there was a…something…there?

Robin's smile faded at the slight frown on her face, and those startling eyes of his bore into hers. Foolish thoughts raced through her mind: what if she kissed him? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her, yet there was also a warm tingle in her stomach. If he pushed her away, at least this nonsense would end before it even started, and she wouldn't have to wonder anymore.

Before she could make up her mind, Robin stepped to her and laid a hand on her cheek. Her breath hitched at the touch. He was so close. Did she want him this close? No…she wanted him closer. _Damn_. What was she getting herself into?

She took his hand, pulling it away from her face and holding it in both of hers.

"Regina?" he said softly - she could barely hear it, the word was just a breath of wind.

Anyone else would already have seized the chance and dived for the kiss. Clearly, he wasn't just anyone. Or did he not want to kiss her? Maybe this was all in her head. Maybe he wasn't the least bit attracted to her. Or maybe he was - she was attractive enough - but still wasn't interested. Yes, that had to be it.

She looked up at him and missed a heartbeat at the intensity of his look.

He did want to…and he wasn't rushing it. That had to mean something, but she couldn't bear finishing the thought just now. Another thing she couldn't bear was the piercing blue of those warm eyes. Heavens, she was blushing like a little girl. Her gaze dropped to his hand still in hers just as his other one came to rest lightly on her waist. Without realising it, she moved closer to him. His fingers entwined with hers, and she rested her hand on his wrist, still not meeting his eye.

His sleeve slipped a little. A small jolt of power ran through her. A flash of black glimpsed from the corner of her eye later, she retracted her hand. No… She was jumping to conclusions, this was absurd...impossible. Wide-eyed and with her heart beating wildly, she slowly pushed the sleeve further up his arm. She gasped.

A tavern door, the glow of fire and pixie dust, a man's back and his outstretched arm bearing a strange picture. The anticipation, the nerves, and above all the fear. The door slamming shut, and the night air filling her lungs as she'd run from a fate she couldn't bear hoping for.

No. No, this couldn't be!

The rush of blood in her ears deafened her. Her heart froze and her skin erupted in goosebumps. She pushed him away wildly, pulling back from his touch.

"Regina," Robin protested, steadying himself after he'd been knocked against the fountain's black stone. "What ha-?"

She turned around and, never a care for how she must have appeared to him then, ran towards the palace.

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><p>She didn't stop until the winter garden. The bench was damp and covered in dead leaves, but Regina only saw black ink on skin as she sank onto it. The image floated before her eyes as if it had been burnt into her retina, no matter how hard she tried to block it out.<p>

The man with the lion tattoo. Robin was the man from the tavern from all those years ago, the man she'd run from without ever even having talked to him, because she'd been scared out of her wits.

And now they'd met again. They'd been travelling together for a while, he'd been right under her nose, and she'd never even known.

And, worst of all, she had feelings for him.

No. This had to stop. She didn't need any of this. There was no place for love in her bleeding heart, and certainly not now any more than then. Especially not for anything so…big. And scary. And most likely not meant to be anyway. Tinkerbell had been wrong, she couldn't be happy. Evey time it seemed she might, she'd lose all that mattered.

Stupid pixie dust for having led her to him in the first place. Stupid Tinkerbell for showing her a possible fate Regina still couldn't bear thinking of. Stupid tattoo. Stupid Robin for being so kind and attractive and passionate. Stupid feelings for occurring uninvited. Stupid, stupid Regina.

Why'd he come back for her? Couldn't he just mind his own business? And why, why did the pestilential man come out of the hidden chamber after her at all? Hadn't it been for that, she'd never know about the tattoo, she'd never have realised she was interested in him this way...or any way. She'd just wanted to be left alone.

She was alone now. There was nothing but darkness and the eerie shapes of shrubs and trees outside the cracked glass dome of the garden.

Robin hadn't followed her here.

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><p>His fingers beat a steady, nervous rhythm on the bark of the tree he was leaning against. He glared at the fountain partly covered by branches. Perhaps he should have chased after her after all, instead of changing his mind after just a few steps. No, it was better this way. What could he have done anyway?<p>

He seemed to be getting nowhere with her at moments like this, when she was extremely distressed. She'd either deny or lash out or hide, or a combination of those. At least until now he'd mostly been able to see what had triggered her reaction: memories of her son, the gruesome fate of the unicorn, the village in ruin - he knew little about what exactly went down inside her, but he knew it had to do with her past. This, now, however - he was left entirely in the dark.

What could have upset her so? True, he'd seen her pull back when someone got too close before - that was why he'd chosen to probe so carefully. He hadn't even kissed her yet, though they'd been close.

He swallowed. It was hard to stomach - sure, she was attractive, and very much so, he'd seen that right from the start of course, but this was more than that. Back there with the wraith, when the air had been punched out of him at the thought of having come too late, something had finally clicked into place. What exactly it was remained to be figured out... Or maybe not, after tonight.

Robin pushed up the sleeve of his tunic and squinted at the familiar ink drawing. Absurd though it seemed, it had been his tattoo that had sent Regina to flight. Did it mean anything to her? As far as he knew, the tattoo had no special significance other than the very personal meaning he attributed to it. Perhaps it had woken some memories in her, though, like the unicorn and the snakes must have. If so, hopefully she'd be able to work through this, hopefully it'd all be cleared up.

Robin's feet itched to go after her. To do what, exactly? To offer her comfort? To see if she was alright? What could he possibly say or do? Besides, he'd already followed her to the courtyard, and what good had come out of that?

Well, that had been different - Roland's presence definitely made Regina think of Henry, and Robin's luck at having found him of her own hopeless situation. He should have paid more attention - but he was so happy. And what could he have done to ease her pain?

What could he do now? It would be the third time tonight that he'd follow her where he wasn't supposed to. The first time had been fortunate - the wraith had been chased away. The second time had been a fiasco, though. The third time, he would just respect her need for privacy.

Robin's legs moved reluctantly across the lawn and the courtyard, and through the secret door. Roland was sleeping peacefully, so was the mother-daughter pair. Regina wasn't back yet. Not that he'd expected her to have returned, but his heart still sank a little. They'd both be calmer in the morning. They'd work this out in the morning.

* * *

><p>Even as Regina was marching back to the secret chamber, Tinkerbell's voice shaped into words of reproof and rang in her ears, as if the fairy was in fact not miles away doing who knew what, but actually by her side, chiding her for what she was about to do.<p>

Regina was running again. Her pride suffered at the thought, and not just her pride. Part of her knew she should stay, part of her even wanted to stay - but still the fear was stronger. She had nothing. Even if she could have something, could it be good enough? Not for her - good things were always snatched away from her. And never without Henry, anyway. And it was better to have nothing than risk gaining something only to lose it all again.

Her hand went out in the blackness of the chamber, a spell ready to muffle the sounds of her arrival and immediate departure. In the end, she just let her hand fall back to her side.

There wasn't much to pack, just a bag to grab and go. No one stirred. Perhaps Robin wasn't even back yet. Perhaps he was asleep. She gave herself a moment to try and make out his breathing and Roland's - but she couldn't look at them. Regina moved to the door, her boots louder than reasonable on the stone floor. Still, no one stirred.

No one seemed to miss her after all. Maybe Roland would ask after her in the morning. Maybe Robin would look for her. Neither would find her anymore.

Come morning, she'd be long gone.

* * *

><p><em>On a side note, the "almost kiss" scene, like the rest of the chapter, had been outlined long before the sneak peek with Regina and Robin in Storybrooke of 3x15 aired, so the fact that there are certain similarities is quite amusing to me. The actual scene with Lana and Sean is of course far more perfect than my version could be, but I hope I didn't do too badly anyway. :)<br>_


	14. With or Without You

_First of all, thanks to all who take the time to review. I've had some really lovely responses and, make no mistake - they do make my day. That said, perhaps I should warn you the next few chapters will continue to be heavy on Regina & Robin interaction. I hope that's a good thing - right? ;)_

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><p>Feeling Roland's warm little body snuggled into him in the morning was the most wonderful thing in the world. Robin's smile only grew at the sight of the boy hugging the stuffed monkey to him even in his sleep. What a wonderful idea of Regina's that had been.<p>

_Regina_.

Robin propped himself on his elbow carefully and peered into the near-darkness. He groaned. If she wasn't here, where was she? As worry sank its claws into him, he rubbed his forehead. He needed to stay calm. Perhaps she'd chosen to spend the night at the palace alone rather than here with them. The palace wasn't safe, though. What if the soul-sucker returned? Or the Witch? Who knew what other dangers lurked within the palace walls.

He began to work on pulling his arm from beneath the sleeping Roland's neck inch by inch, his mind plotting out a plan: he'd start at the gazebo, retrace her steps to where she'd run, and try to track her down from there - her chamber first, and then...

The bag. Having finally managed to get up without waking Roland, he crossed the short distance to where it had last sat the previous night. It wasn't there anymore.

Robin cursed under his breath.

Why, why would she do this? And where had she gone? Did she yearn for a hermit's life for a while, or was she plunging into some dangerous mission, some foolish undertaking? He still didn't know what had happened between her and the Witch. Perhaps Regina had decided to go against her alone. Even on her best form, it would be risky. In the shape she was in, it could easily be a suicide mission.

Well, he wasn't going to stand for that.

Robin woke the family of two, shared some of the food he still had left, and saw them off on their way home. The sun was high up in the sky by the time he returned to the sleeping Roland, who hadn't as much as shifted positions since - he had to be absolutely exhausted. Ideally, Robin would let him rest to the fullest, but now he had no choice but to get going - the palace wasn't safe for them anyway. He packed what little they had in moments, then hoisted Roland into his arms complete with the fur he was wrapped in, and set off.

Regina had been too careless or too distraught or too tired to cover up her tracks, so it wasn't hard to see which way she was headed. It was the way they had planned to take after Roland was with them, back to Aurora and Philip's palace to rejoin the others. Roland's head on his shoulder bobbed a little with every step Robin took. A low murmur escaped him once, but it was enough for Robin to rub his back and he went back to sleep. It was easier this way - Roland couldn't walk very fast, and Robin needed to make as much progress as possible.

The solitary journey gave Robin plenty of time for soul-searching.

If he wanted to be honest with himself, there was no denying anymore that he had feelings for Regina that went beyond platonic as well as physical attraction. The ebb and flow of guilt made it all the more difficult to admit. This was the first time since his beloved Marian's death that he'd experienced any kind of romantic stirrings at all. He'd never stop loving his wife, but it seemed his heart had life enough in it, and room enough, for love again.

Could Regina and he eventually fall in love? Robin couldn't be sure. Did Regina even feel the same way? The day before had given him no clear answers. There had been hope, yes, plenty of anticipation, and butterflies he'd never really thought he'd experience at this age. She'd let him closer than ever before, and not just physically. But then she'd pulled away with a force that left little doubt as to whether she was up for this or not.

Yet there had been something in her eyes, in the way she'd touched him, that kept the hope alive. Maybe she did reciprocate. Maybe she just wasn't ready for this so soon after the loss of her child. He could understand that. He could wait. There was no reason for her to flee; of course he'd respect her wish if she said she wanted nothing at present. Perhaps he should have thought about it sooner, before he'd tried anything. But alas, Robin wasn't a mind-reader; he could only go on his best guess.

Right now, his best guess was that they were further away from each other now than ever before.

That was no reason to give up, though.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Regina."<p>

Regina winced, and the cool spring water she'd just gathered into her cupped hands sloshed down the front of her dress. He'd approached quietly as a shadow, and even though there had always been a chance of him catching up with her, she hadn't expected it to be so soon. Her stomach jolted at the prospect of facing his prying eyes and intrusive questions.

Robin stepped from between the trees, Roland tucked in the fur asleep in his arms. Regina's eyes flew to Robin's wrist. The sleeve was pulled down, so she couldn't see it, but it was there alright.

"What are you doing here?"

He should never have come after her, looking so endearing with his son slung over his shoulder. There was not a hint of anger in his features. His calm only fuelled the desperate irritation bubbling up inside her. What business did he have following her around? Hadn't her silent departure been statement enough?

"Taking a break on the road, like yourself," he answered simply. "It's our first one, though, so if you don't mind we could make it a little longer."

"Suit yourself. I'll be on my way."

Not that she hadn't only just arrived and settled down on a dried-up stump to rest her aching feet. His coming changed everything, though, for she certainly wasn't staying around him and letting last night's misstep repeat itself. No way.

"Regina, I'm sorry if I did something to upset you last night."

"I'm not upset, I'm...focused." Ugh, even she wouldn't believe that.

Robin eyed her a moment. For the first time, he appeared tense as he licked his lips and spoke quietly.

"Is this about Henry? If you need-"

"Don't bring Henry into this!" The amount of guilt wasn't exactly small - she had almost gone to have a love affair so soon after her son was gone. True, Henry was on her mind every minute of every day, but still, how could she ever have thought of having a place in her heart for someone else? It felt like betrayal.

Robin looked stumped for a moment, and that was her chance. To do what? The thing she did when she was scared of someone getting too close: chase him away.

"Look, Robin," she purred, and coaxed a mocking smile onto her lips. "I don't know what you expected striking a deal with the Evil Queen. I did what I'd promised, you saved my life in return, and now we're even, so-"

But Robin had, apparently, had enough.

"Would you just stop with the Evil Queen nonsense!" he cried in a flurry as his temper flared. Oh yes, he had one, too, she'd known that already - so why did it move her so?

Perhaps it was because it showed he genuinely cared.

She needed to stop.

"Nonsense?" she scoffed. "I _am_ the Evil Queen. Believing otherwise is foolish, as I have told you before." Well, that was true, wasn't it? She _was_ the Evil Queen...

"Every time something scares you," Robin spat, and suddenly cooled down mid-sentence. His eyes acquired a tenderness that only freaked her out. "You use her for cover," he finished softly. That was a far cry, Robin was reaching, he'd seen too little to have noticed the pattern - but he'd hit the nail on the head, and her stunned silence only spurred him on. "Regina, don't hide behind the Queen."

This kindness would be her downfall; she would have preferred a heated argument. She tried to whip up her anger once more, but suddenly she felt limp and empty, and all she could manage was a stuttered response.

"I'm not- I have nothing to say to you."

"Fine," he nodded. "Then listen to me, because I have something to say to you."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, but you will."

How could he be so damn cocksure? But in spite of herself, she was listening. Why didn't she just turn and leave? Did she actually want to know what he could possibly have in mind? Before she had time to confront the question, Robin ploughed on.

"I'm sick of you doing this to yourself." Perhaps his words would aggravate her more if he didn't look so damn careworn. "I'm sick of me-" he went on, and Regina's eyes widened - what could he have done to feel bad about? "I'm sick of me condoning it by just standing around while you brood in your shell just because I worry I might say the wrong thing."

Regina swallowed. She hadn't been expecting this. He'd been trying to help, and he didn't know how. She could relate to that - she'd felt that way with Henry for a while, it had been one of the reasons she'd had him seeing Archie after she'd admitted she had no idea how to make things right with him again.

But Robin wasn't done yet. "I'm sick of us," he said, and she had an urge to cover her ears to shut out the words to come, "running away from each other. As scary as that is, I have feelings for you, and I know you feel something, too."

There seemed to be a giant, gaping hole where her stomach had been just a moment ago. Robin had feelings for her. He'd just admitted to having feelings for her. And she'd worried she might be imagining things.

_The tattoo_.

No, this wasn't safe, this wasn't what she wanted right now.

"Someone sure is being overly presumptuous." Her voice, would-be-dismissive, sounded artificial to her, but maybe - just maybe - he wouldn't hear that.

"So it's not true?" he challenged with his eyes boring into her. Yet he hadn't taken a single step towards her the entire conversation.

"No," Regina shot back in defence, a sinking sensation in her stomach at the blatant lie. She had feelings for him, yes, and very intense ones at that. But she couldn't tell him that. Heavens, she couldn't even admit it to herself.

A shadow settled on his brow, and the effect of her words astounded her. Was he so serious about this? That crestfallen face wasn't making things any easier.

He turned to Roland and wrapped the fur tighter around him. The gesture was perfectly genuine, yet possibly Robin was using the time to collect himself. Indeed, when he looked up again, his face was straight and his look searching. Once again, she'd have loved to hide from it, but instead worked to arrange her features into a look of contempt her heart was protesting loudly - she'd already seemed to have caused him pain.

"I don't believe you," Robin said at long last, but he looked gloomy all the same. Did this mean he'd...? "But there's not much I can do if you're so intent on denying whatever this connection we have is."

She only knew one way to go about this.

"We don't...have a connection," she forced out, then added almost inaudibly: "We can't."

Robin nodded, and kept his eyes down for a good while. Was this it? Had she succeeded? Was he finally giving up?

"Then I guess that's it," he said simply.

This was her way out. She should be relieved. Why wasn't she relieved? Why did she feel like bursting into tears? Why did she want to forget about the world for just a moment while they embraced?

_I've done that already. I can't afford to do it again_. It was too much...getting too big, spiralling out of control.

* * *

><p>"Why are you following me?" Regina finally turned with her fists clenched.<p>

What was he thinking, walking uphill not far behind her as though he had every right to be there? She'd left the stream without much ado, leaving Robin and Roland behind, but not long afterwards they were at her heels once again. Robin never came too close, but she knew he was constantly behind her by the way the tiny hairs at the back of her neck would stand up, and the knowledge itself was enough to make her uncomfortable. What else did she have to do to finally be rid of his unsettling presence?

Robin didn't answer until he was just steps away from her, and even then he could have done better than: "We have a common way."

"Take another route," she commanded, although that tone had never worked on him before.

"This is the only reasonable one," he shrugged.

"I thought we agreed to split."

"We never agreed on any such thing."

"Fine. Then go ahead. I'll find a way." She'd double back if she had to, go back the way they'd come. It'd take longer, but she could live with that. Or maybe she could rest her magic for a few days and try to poof herself straight to Aurora's Palace, despite the warning Robin had given her at the beginning.

Robin's patience was on the run-out.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Regina's nails dug into her palms. How dare he call her ridiculous? And he went on unashamedly. "There's only woods and marshes and magical traps around here. We need to get to Aurora's Palace, and fast. All of us. What sense does it make to go separately when we know there are dangers on the way?"

"Do you require my protection?" she jeered. "Because I sure don't require yours."

"No, sure as hell not. The wraith could talk."

"You didn't have to save me. I didn't ask for your help."

"No, of course not," Robin threw his one free arm up in the air. "Thankfully, I'm nowhere near as mulish as you, otherwise you'd be dead."

Regina's common sense nodded agreement, but her frame of mind dictated a much meaner response.

"Well, maybe you should have let that happen, at least I wouldn't have to suffer you around now - or you me."

Robin gave her a look of utter disbelief.

"You know, you really are incredible! Do you ever even-"

"Papa?" Roland peeped from beneath the stirring fur.

Robin froze, and Regina's mouth closed again. They'd both forgotten about the little boy asleep in Robin's arms. Had he heard them arguing?

"Roland..." Robin stroked the child's hair now poking out of the fur, "it's alright, buddy, I'm here."

Roland rubbed his eyes with his little fists and looked around behind his father's shoulder. "Where are we? Are we going home?"

"We are," Robin smiled at him.

"Is Regina with us?" he asked, and Regina's breath hitched a little. "She saved me. In the palace."

"That she did." Robin looked at her, his eyes soft and full of gratitude, all irateness gone.

She swallowed and searched for an adequate response but was spared the trouble when Roland twisted in Robin's arms and followed his father's look.

"Regina...hi," he breathed happily.

"Hi, Roland." This little boy had the most amazing ability to make her smile, and he didn't even know how precious that was. "How are you feeling?"

He considered the question for a moment. "Hurts a little."

They exchanged a quick, concerned look.

"Where does it hurt?" Robin asked, forcing his voice into calmness he definitely didn't feel. Regina herself felt a dreadful cold gripping her heart. What if something was wrong with him after all, and she hadn't noticed? She should have - she was the magical one of the two, so if the Witch had done Roland harm, Regina should have seen.

"My tummy," Roland pointed.

Robin set him down on a moss-covered rock and unwrapped the fur. Roland looked on with curiosity, and Regina gave him and encouraging smile before she joined Robin. She squinted in concentration as Robin swiftly exposed Roland's belly, probing gently with his fingers. Roland didn't once flinch in pain. Everything seemed to be alright.

Robin glanced at her over his shoulder, and she shook her head desperately. Was she missing something?

Then a sign of recognition ignited in his eyes, and he turned back to the boy.

"Roland? Could it be that you're hungry?"

Roland considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe."

Robin uttered a relieved chuckle, and Regina closed her eyes briefly, gratefulness washing over her.

"I'll get you something right now, alright?" Robin reached into his cloak and handed the familiar plushie to Roland. "Here's Mr Monkey."

"I want Regina," Roland demanded, but took the monkey just as well.

Regina stepped closer. "I'm here, Roland."

He pointed next to him, and when she sat, he climbed onto her lap immediately. She put her arms around him with the smallest grain of reluctance, the last of which was chased out of her the moment he attempted to link his arms around her, resting even closer to her.

Robin whipped up a bowl of porridge in next to no time, and fed the already drooping Roland, while she still held his limp little figure on her lap. When the last spoonful was cleared, Roland snuggled into Regina, rested his cheek against her, and fell asleep. Soon, she found herself stroking his thin little arms.

Robin stepped to them, and she froze for a second, but he merely leaned to pick up the monkey Roland had in the meantime dropped, and sat back down a little distance away. She let out a small breath.

"We can do this together, you know." Robin kept toying with the monkey in his hands. "We don't have to split."

"We've been through this," she said quietly, resolved to remain uncompromising.

"No. I'm talking about teamwork," he said in a rush. "Nothing else. No connection, no nothing. You've been clear enough about that."

Even if there was a gloomy note in his voice somewhere, clearly he'd tried his best to not make it show. Regina felt a chill all the same. This wasn't a good idea. Agreeing on not acting on these urges was all very well, but would they actually stick to it?

Roland sighed in his sleep and squirmed on her lap, but didn't wake.

If she wanted to be reasonable, she had to agree with Robin. They had a common way, and they were more effective against enemies together than separately. If not for their own protection, they owed that much to Roland.

"Alright. We stick together - as allies. Nothing more, nothing less." A special emphasis lingered on those words - he needed to understand that, or else she'd opt out. "Your word," she asked.

He only took the tiniest moment before complying.

"My word," he said, and added, with a grave face: "I won't mention it again."

* * *

><p>Robin rubbed his hands together over the humble fire. The cold drizzle and the sleet had gotten into the very heart of the forest, and the firewood smoked abundantly. At least Roland was warm, with the fur and Robin's own blanket thrown over him. He still spent most of the day asleep - there couldn't have been much sleep happening for the children while they'd been held hostage.<p>

Despite the cold, Regina was sitting further away from the fire, across from them. Robin glanced at her quickly, but the caution was unnecessary - she wasn't looking his way but stared into the flames instead, her face softer than he'd seen it in a while. She was warm enough when Roland happened to be awake, but rather cold and unpleasant when they were on their own.

"So, this Witch," Robin began. Surely that at least was a safe topic - she was the thing that had united them after all. "Did you get to learn something about her back in the palace?" There'd never been time for them to discuss what had gone on in Regina's chamber between the two of them, and frankly, he was curious.

Regina, however, wasn't impressed by his choice of conversational topic - or perhaps it was the idea of conversation in general.

"That's between the two of us," she said dryly, her face set once again. Then she looked up at him across the fire with a challenge in her eyes. Robin became wary - this wasn't going to go well.

"But strange that you should ask," she continued. "If I'm not mistaken, you had promised useful information on her back at Rumpelstiltskin's Castle in exchange for my assistance. Somehow, that part of the deal was never honoured."

The insinuation stung.

"I always honour my word," he retorted. Damn it, he had resolved not to be provoked or otherwise drawn into assuming the same tone with her that she'd been employing on him. But he was stingy about his honour, and the worst thing was she did have a point, although he had his reasons.

"Oh, but of course you do," she smirked. "You're a thief with honour, after all."

So they were back to "thief" again? Robin's stomach sank, and at the same time annoyance crept onto him.

"My word was good enough for you yesterday."

He regretted saying it the moment the words came out. He had no intention of reminding her of that conversation, or thinking about it himself.

Her face was drained of all colour for a moment, then the mask was back on.

"Good night," she said in no uncertain tones, and, turning her back on him, retired for the night.

Before turning in himself, Robin made sure to throw a bunch of firewood on the fire - albeit with completely unnecessary force.


	15. Frozen

_With so much about to go down on the show and my having a few days off, I'm now able to update earlier than usual, so here's a new chapter for all you lovely readers. Congratulate me: I managed to end this one on a cliffhanger! ;) Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Regina looked at him for answers as he emerged from a bush at the side of the path. Her curiosity was tepid at best, as there hadn't been much in the way of news anyway. It was necessary to keep a lookout, but Robin hardly ever found anything of interest in these abandoned parts.<p>

"If we leave the path and go south, we'll come across a hut." Robin brushed a shower of dried needles off his shirt. "We can spend the night there."

"It's only midday. We can go a long way yet." Her patience was extraordinarily short now that their little group was together again. She needed to get away from this land as soon as possible - and from Robin's constant presence.

Robin shook his head and her temper flared. What was he thinking?

"If you feel you have time to waste, fine," she snapped, "but don't expect me to-"

Robin's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice stayed oddly calm as he interrupted her.

"There's a storm coming," he gestured at the horizon over the top of the trees. A heavy steely mass was gathering in the distance, painting the sky a cold dark hue. "We need to seek shelter, and fast."

Regina looked around in exasperation. Snowflakes were floating gently in the air, fat and fluffy. They showed no sign of thinning, quite the contrary: it was becoming increasingly hard to see through the thickening curtain of snow. A cold gust of wind blew a handful of icy shards in her face. Her eyes fell on Roland, who was already wading knee-deep in the squeaking snow. Robin was right, no matter how much she hated to admit it. What was the point of having rescued Roland just to let him come to harm from something as trivial as the weather?

"Alright," she said curtly. "He needs to stay warm. Roland," she called after the boy, who was breasting the snow and wind several steps ahead with her in tow so she could keep and eye out on him. "Roland!"

The snow already seemed to be muffling all sounds. It was only a matter of time before it swallowed up everything. But Robin was already at Roland's level, having caught up with the boy in just a few quick strides. He scooped Roland up in his arms and spoke a few words to him, then turned from the forest path in the direction of the trees. He waited for Regina to follow, and led the way into the thickset, shielding Roland's head from the overhanging branches with a careful hand. Regina's senses sharpened and she held her magic at the ready as the forest swallowed them.

* * *

><p>"Is this it?" she shouted into the raging wind. Robin merely nodded, and beckoned her further out into the small clearing. Only now that they'd become fully exposed to the raging elements did they wholly appreciate its mightiness.<p>

The abandoned hut was indeed just that: a weathered construction of logs and wood the size of a small room. It looked desperately shabby in the swirling gusts of snow. It was hard to believe it would offer much protection from the oncoming blizzard at all. She took a step forward, but the frown remained settled on her brow. Robin was waiting just a few steps from the entrance. Regina looked at him with annoyance as she caught up – what was he waiting for?

"A creek," he yelled, leaning slightly towards her. The word seemed to have carried for miles and barely reached her for the whooshing wind.

Indeed, there was a thin strip of frozen water surrounding the hut, making it stand isolated on a pathetic excuse of an island. It was too wide to overstep safely due to the treacherous frosty ground. At the same time, the ice could be too thin to hold them, and the water, albeit too shallow to threaten with drowning, would no doubt be ice-cold.

Regina flexed her gloved fingers. She could certainly make a way if need be. Robin, probably guessing her intention, placed a hand on her arm though. Regina's eyes flashed. He held her gaze for just a split second but did in no way react to her cold stare. He turned away instead and began walking around the perimeter of the hut, keeping at a constant distance from the creek. Roland gave her a small wave from the height of his father's embrace, and she started after them.

They reached the back of the house, and Robin began probing the ground with his boot at a certain spot. After a moment's toiling, he raised his head and nodded. Slowly, he inched across the creek, his footsteps uncovering a narrow footbridge hidden beneath the snow.

"It's not safe," she blurted out, realising only then that he probably couldn't hear her anyway. Roland merely waved to her again, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes had an adventurous glint that made her heart both melt and contract with anxiety. She glanced at Robin, who had just reached the other side and turned to call her onward.

Regina eyed the plank – or the little she could make out of it in the snow – with mistrust. She certainly had no desire to make an ass out of herself and tumble into the ice-covered water while Robin watched. She could use magic, but it did seem something of a waste, and he might just think she was a coward for it. Regina sighed and set out across. One slip on the ice made her curse internally and focus harder. It was only when she was safely on the other side that her fists unclenched and she breathed with more ease again. As soon as she got across, Robin had disappeared in the door.

The smell of wood and smoke hit her as she entered the cottage, a smell lingering in the walls and the sparse furniture: two beds, a rough-hewn table with two chairs, and a simple bench by the wall. She had to strain to pull the door shut behind her but once she did, it was a surprisingly tight fit – no draught was getting in.

Regina wrinkled her nose at the stink of decay. What a hole. Well, at least it looked dry.

"There's no firewood," Robin observed. "I'll venture out to get some in a moment, although it might be that we'll once again be getting more smoke than heat with the humidity."

Regina stomped her foot. He could be so damn impossible sometimes.

"I have magic, remember? I am perfectly capable of making us a fire without all the unnecessary trouble." And even as she spoke, a bright orange fireball unfurled in her palm, and she hurled it in one effortless motion into the full old ashes.

The fire crackled merrily, its tongues as lively as if it had been burning for hours. Regina could already feel pleasant warmth emanating from it in waves. She shot Robin a challenging look.

Like before, he said nothing, and looked away. Ever so gently, he unwrapped Roland's arms from around his neck and placed him in front of the fire.

"I'll get us water," he said without looking at her, and disappeared outside.

With a vague sense of irritation, she glanced at Roland warming his hands over the fire, and smiled at the sight. It didn't matter if Robin had not a word of thanks – the little boy was warm, and that was all of her concern. She crossed the small room in a few steps and leaned over Roland. Carefully, she removed the snow-soaked blanket from around him, undid the clasp of his wet cloak, and spread it out by the fire. He'd be dry now.

Roland murmured something incomprehensible and held up his arms to her. He felt feather-light as she obliged and picked him up, and his eyes fluttered closed with his head barely having rested on her shoulder. The long walk must have exhausted him. Those small feet were unfit to trod in that amount of snow or walk such distances, but when ever she'd suggested carrying him, the boy would shake his head and stumble on merrily, clearly enjoying the fun mess underfoot. Now he was falling into a heavy sleep.

Regina looked around the hut's insides instinctively for some bedding, only to feel utterly foolish a moment later. Of course there would be nothing. Even if there were, it would probably be unsuitable for use anymore. The blankets they had were sodden, since each of them had walked with one wrapped around themselves to keep out the cold. Never mind – she could handle this just as well of course. Regina flicked her wrist, and within a heartbeat Roland was resting amid a puffy pillow and a fluffy duvet. One or two careful, swift, experienced motions - this time no magic was needed - and he was all tucked in.

A gust of wind-and-snowflakes later, the door banged shut, and Regina winced involuntarily and wheeled around. Robin had returned with the water and a handful of walnuts. His eyes darted from her to Roland under the blanket and back to her again. For a moment she was certain he'd turn away without a word once more.

Then he nodded. "Thank you, Regina."

At least he still used her name – she'd been half-expecting him to have returned to "Your Majesty" or else "milady" by now. Despite the evident cooling of their behaviour, this small nicety still remained, and deep down she was grateful for that.

* * *

><p>"You disapprove of magic," Regina cut through the heavy, lingering silence.<p>

Roland was fast asleep and she and Robin were finishing a humble supper.

The thought had been present all day. Of course she'd known before, but today it unnerved her. The way he'd come to keep his distance unnerved her. But of course it wasn't his fault. It had been her decision in the first place. Robin was merely coming to accommodate the change in her behaviour. How could she blame him?

He eyed her for a short moment before he replied.

"I believe the price is hardly worth the gain."

So he was admitting to it. That should have come as no surprise - he had never tried to mollify her by commending what he didn't agree with, even in the face of her temper.

"Luckily, I am the one paying the price," she said.

Robin fixed her with a gaze.

"Then perhaps I'd rather you didn't have to pay it either."

"Why would you care?" she blurted before she could stop herself. As the words tumbled out, she attempted for them to sound mocking at best, yet she felt immediately that it had fallen short. It went too deep, too intimate – it erupted from the very core of her soul, possibly revealing far more than she had ever intended.

Robin watched her intently – so intently she felt as if he were attempting to reach right to her soul. Regina felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation down her spine but was loath to admit defeat by being the first to avert her eyes. Instead, she resorted to doing what she always did when she felt threatened: she attacked.

"I merely find the suggestion hypocritical after the hostile attitude we have engaged in in the past days."

Despite the unfairness of it, the implication obviously stung. His eyes softened somewhat.

"I had no intention of appearing hostile," he sighed. "I do believe I'd been rather forthcoming before. You've given every sign of it being a burden to you."

Regina's jaw clenched. His words were way too accurate – and there was no hint of an accusation there either, just a certain disappointment, a dejection she didn't fully comprehend. And he didn't stop there.

"Can you blame me if after a fortnight I run out of incentive to remain quite so obliging?"

In all fairness, she had no right to - but try as she might to be pleased about having achieved what she had set out to do, the change in their dynamics was only bringing pain and sadness on a scale she hadn't counted on, and none of the relief and safety from being hurt that she had expected it to bring.

"I may not be as amicable now," Robin admitted with a small frown, "but I still believe I maintain a decent attitude to make the rest of this journey tolerable."

Regina arched her eyebrow. "And I'm making it intolerable."

"Your incessant bickering is a hindrance," he blurted.

So that was how he felt. Until then he'd managed not to show any frustration her behaviour must have caused, which had annoyed her to no end. Robin ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to have lost his self-control for once, and as much as Regina wanted to, she just couldn't feel pleased.

Suddenly, she felt tired of everything.

"It wasn't my choice to do things this way, Robin."

He should have let her go when she'd left on her own. He didn't need her anymore anyway.

"Your son was held captive by a witch, so it made sense to team up then. I wanted to part ways afterwards, but you insisted on sticking together." The bitterness on her tongue made its way into her words as well, and Robin huffed.

"So I'm the one to blame for this."

"Why was it so important to you that we make our way back together?" She stirred the tea in her mug. It had gone cold and tasted foul this way. She grimaced. "As you've just said yourself, I'm no pleasant company."

Robin opened his mouth and closed it again - what could he possibly have wanted to say that he'd changed his mind?

"I had also said this land is full of dangers," he reminded her eventually, "many of which you don't even comprehend."

"I come from this land. As much as I dislike it, I do know a thing or two about it."

It wasn't as though she'd found herself in an all new world, as Storybrooke had been. Storybrooke. It felt more like a home to her than this place ever had. If only she could go back.

Robin's voice cut through her fruitless dreamery. "Not after the Curse."

"Which I cast."

The victorious note brought a frown on Robin's face.

Regina's short-lived safety bubble came to the brink of bursting. Was Robin right? Did she have a habit of holding up the Evil Queen as a shield when she felt threatened? She'd just done it - she'd felt sure it would end this conversation. And it had another benefit, too: if she kept reminding people of the fact, at least that allowed for less disappointment when they suddenly threw it in her face at a moment of hopeful oblivion on her part.

But Robin didn't reprimand her again for this little stunt she'd pulled, nor did he proceed to try and refute it. He merely gave her a sincerely interested look.

"And then there's this Witch who seems to hate you," he said as if she'd never interrupted him.

"A lot of people hate me." If one person were any reason to feel constantly threatened, the crowds of them would have driven her crazy a long time ago. "Believe me, this is no news to me."

Robin made a non-committal sound. "Not all of them have the means to set wraiths and monkeys and murderous Cyclopes on you."

Was he really suggesting he worried about her so much that he'd put up with all her nastiness not only for Roland's safety, but her own? No, that was impossible. She should be offended that he believed her so gullible. Yet there wasn't a single sign of him being anything other than sincere.

"Why do you care?" Regina heard herself ask again, with an insistence that was making her sound close to desperate. Ashamed, she turned to her mug again, but there was nothing left to sip on.

Robin rose and retrieved the improvised kettle from the fire. He refilled his cup and offered to refill hers. Regina held it out automatically. He set the kettle back down and returned to his seat. Only then did he answer.

"I simply do." His hand with the cup in it sank back down from his lips at the slight shake of her head. "Is being cared about such a terrible fate?"

_Was being happy such a terrible fate?_

Regina struggled to shake off the ghosts of the past. Damn his choice of words.

"I find people only show interest when they have something to gain. There is always a reason." She took a sip of the steaming liquid just to occupy herself and hide her face - the topic was sensitive, and she didn't see how he would refute her argument considering that they had teamed up in precisely that kind of situation. Her lips burned at the contact and she pushed back a hiss.

Robin's lips tightened for a moment, then his eyes bore into her, and she made it a point to stare into the depths of the mug, her ears pricked for his answer.

"Then you have clearly had the misfortune of meeting the wrong people."

"What a nice notion." The sarcasm helped keep her feelings at bay. It always did. "I doubt it."

It was Robin's turn to stare into his tea. Perhaps he'd run out of arguments now. Finally. She'd been stupid to secretly hope he'd have a good counter-argument she couldn't refute. Why on earth would she hope for that at all?

Robin looked up from his cup with a determined curve to his mouth, but his eyes were soft. "The night I found you outside the camp alone, crying, I certainly wasn't thinking of any kind of gain for myself."

Regina's hand shook, and brownish water spilled onto the floor.

"That never happened."

He'd never mentioned this before, not since that awkward night - why now? Why at all?

Robin nodded, as if he'd expected this reaction.

"We both know better. You held me at arm's length, and I withdrew, because even though I wanted to offer comfort, it just seemed to upset you even more."

The jumble of emotions of that night returned as alive as ever. She couldn't deal with this now. He should never have seen her like that. He was right, he couldn't help her - she didn't see how he could possibly make her feel anything but panicked and exposed.

"I don't have to discuss this with you," she glared at him pointedly.

Robin nodded again. "You don't have to discuss anything with me. But you _could_ - if you wanted to."

"Well, I don't. I want to do what needs to be done for us to go back home." For starters, she needed to get the hell out of here, away from this conversation. She set the mug down with a clang. "And I'm starting now."

The moment she said that, his obliging demeanour changed.

"Regina, there's a blizzard raging outside." He stood up, suddenly towering over her. "Even when it stops, there might be no leaving this place for a while."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This place is known for dire weather calamities. We could be snowed in for days."

"No," she stated simply. "I'm not letting a little snow detain me longer than until morning, and certainly not for days. I can make a way even where there is none - remember?" She opened her palm to reveal a shining fireball licking at her fingers lazily.

"That's not a good idea." Robin said straightforwardly - what gave him the nerve? "You might end up doing more harm than good." The flames in her palm danced reflected in his eyes.

"You have your sentiments about magic, I have mine. Stay here with Roland." Regina glanced at the shock of hair prominent against the contrasting bedding, and suppressed a pang of guilt and tenderness. The Witch had told her she was no longer interested in children. Robin was perfectly capable of protecting his son from other dangers. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Regina, don't." She walked briskly to the door, but as she put her hand on it, his fingers curled around her forearm. "Do not go out there."

"Let go off me," she spat.

"Please," he added quietly. "There's a line between being determined and being foolish. Don't be the latter."

"Let go," she hissed.

To her slight surprise, he did exactly that.

"As you wish."

The spot on her arm he had been touching just a moment ago burned curiously. He hadn't been rough with her despite the urgency, therefore the sensation was quite peculiar.

So was the shadow of worry that accompanied the cross expression on his face.

* * *

><p>Robin sank back into his seat in front of the fire.<p>

Bold and audacious to a fault.

Well, she wouldn't be long. As deep as the snow had been when he was out there last, the narrow path to the edge of the forest he had dug to get to firewood would now be covered in snow and guarded by an even higher white wall on each side. Regina wouldn't get far.

Yet several minutes passed and she hadn't returned.

Robin's unrest only grew. He stood and went to check on Roland, who was sleeping peacefully, untroubled by worries of any kind. Thank goodness for that. He watched him a little longer, then adjusted the fur to make sure he stayed as warm as possible.

A mighty whumphing sound, not unlike a bag of potatoes being dropped into deep snow, shook the cottage's walls.

Robin's blood froze. He knew that sound: the sound of hurtling snow, plundering everything underway.


	16. Snowed In

_Since I've been on vacation this week, I've been able to write a bit more than usual, so here's another update. It get slightly angsty but I think the fluffy Regina & Roland parts make up for it. We can do with a little cuteness in anticipation of the next episode, right? Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The disturbing sound died out and quiet sat on the cottage, heavy and muffling. One glance at Roland told him the child's sleep was too deep to have been disturbed. The next second, Robin was in the door with a cape and a blanket in one hand and a sword in the other.<p>

The door wouldn't yield to his touch. He leaned against it with a shoulder and pushed. It didn't budge. Damn it, he needed to get out there, and fast. Robin forced his sword between the door and the frame, sending splinters flying. He eased it a little, then gave the door a mighty push. It seemed to have moved an inch. Robin pushed again, but it was not enough, and it was way too slow. Regina was out there and clearly in trouble. This time, Robin took the door at a run. As his shoulder collided with the sturdy wood, a dull pain spread through it, and a moment later he tumbled headlong through the narrow opening.

Everything was dark. It had to be night still. That wasn't helping - what daylight could aid him in orientation would come too late. Robin dug into the solid, cold wall before him, throwing the snow aside, but there was more beyond. He toiled on feverishly. There wasn't much time in situations like this. She could be buried under, freezing just as he was making his way to her. He cursed and attacked the frosty wall with his shoulder. The icy sensation actually numbed the painful throbbing. He threw himself against the snow again, and found himself breathing fresh night air with eyes blinded by the shimmer of stars against snow.

"Regina!" he yelled as loud as he could. There was no answer, only walls of snow surrounding him - snow that could entomb him any moment, especially if he was foolish enough to continue shouting. Chances were she couldn't hear him anyway, or he wouldn't hear her answer.

A snowflake landed on his nose, and a bunch of others danced around him. It had begun to snow anew.

Where could she be? She'd have tried to make a path in the snow, towards the forest probably, like he had before, only for him there had been much less snow to plough through then. Snow drifts and iced slabs had probably foiled her attempts … and then an avalanche-like effect had occurred. Perhaps one of her fireballs had triggered it. Whatever it had been, it meant he needed to look for her at the far end of the path. He gazed up at the ghostly treetops and the pale stars for orientation, and ploughed on in the bitter cold. He blasted through barriers by force of momentum or aided by his sword, which he used as a shovel - though carefully, so as not to hurt her should he come across her in the snowy banks.

Something black and shiny lay against the snow in sharp contrast with its stunning brightness. Robin picked it up - it was Regina's gorget. He threw it aside and began to dig as quickly as possible. He exhaled sharply when he hit her boot, and forced his muscles to work even faster. Soon enough, the snow became wetter as opposed to iced, and a thawing slush took its place. Perhaps she was keeping herself warm by magic - hopefully that was what she was doing.

Regina's legs became uncovered, and a muffled groan issued from the snow as he tried to pull her out by them. By some miracle, he'd done it in a few more seconds' worth of digging and grabbing and pulling. He wrapped her in the readied blanket, but she continued shivering violently, so he tore the cloak from his shoulders and threw it over her. She was breathing and conscious, and he felt a warmth spread in his chest despite the biting cold. She groaned again as he gathered her in his arms, and stumbled with her back inside, closing the door on the calamity without.

* * *

><p>Robin threw a bunch of logs in the fireplace. Flames roared and licked the grate hungrily. He hurried back to her, looking her over.<p>

Regina lay still with her eyes closed and her teeth chattering. Clumps of snow were slowly melting in her hair, creating wet patches on the blanket. The pale bluish of her lips was prominent against her ashen face. Robin unclasped her cloak and removed her coat, and threw them aside. The skirt underneath was soaked through; it would have to go. He worked as fast as he could, only stopping now and then to check her pulse. It was all good: she was breathing and she was conscious, that was more than he'd dared hope for.

Robin undid her boots and pulled them carefully off her feet. She didn't flinch, and Robin froze for a moment, staying his hands with the boot halfway off. Frostbite was an option, of course - but he'd hoped, since she'd managed to keep herself fairly warm out there, that she'd have escaped it. Well, either way, there was no time to tarry. He removed the boot in one swift motion, and the other one, too. Regina's feet were cold to the touch but her toes had remained pink and untouched by frostnip. Robin exhaled - she must have known what she was doing keeping herself warm under the snow.

By the time he removed all wet clothing, she was left wearing only a fine black chemise. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps, and Robin groaned in frustration - they had no more blankets, and only the one fur Roland was covered with. He glance over to his son, asleep with his arms, chest, and one leg sticking out. The blaring fire was keeping him warmer than he needed. Robin replaced the fur with a blanket, making sure Roland was properly covered. Then he rushed back to Regina and wrapped her in the fur with equal care.

Robin settled at the foot of the bed and began to gently rub Regina's still cold feet, coaxing warmth and feeling back into them. After a while, she moaned and attempted to pull her leg in, but Robin held on to it. It tingled and burned, yes, but as unpleasant as that undoubtedly was to her, it was necessary.

He'd never fully realised how petite she actually was. The Queen often seemed larger than life, impressive and truly majestic, and although that had a lot to do with her ostentatious wardrobe, it was as much, if not more, the effect of Regina's demeanour: the way she carried herself, how she was able to fill an entire room with her presence effortlessly. Now, resting beneath the large fur, she looked small and vulnerable, almost fragile.

She sighed and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Regina," Robin leaned over her and brushed wet hair from her face and neck. "Stay with me, alright? You can go to sleep soon enough, when you're warm."

* * *

><p>Her fingers and toes tingled pleasantly. It was nice and warm. Either death was far less grim than people made it out, or she was somehow safely back in the cottage. Regina tried to move her toes. It worked. She stretched her fingers. What a delight. Everything seemed to be working the way it was supposed to. Maybe the unfortunate mishap had left no lasting damage after all. But it could have.<p>

Regina groaned. Robin would have a few words to say about it for sure. He'd been right after all: messing around with all that snow had been reckless. She was lucky to have gotten off so lightly. What with the nastiness she'd been heaping on Robin lately, there'd probably be no end to the lecture - and she couldn't even complain.

Well, if it had to be, it'd better happen straight away. Regina opened her eyes.

A pair of wide brown ones was staring back at her.

Roland smiled happily and stepped closer, stopping just beside her bed.

"Hi," she breathed.

"You're up," Roland beamed. "I knew it. It was Mr Monkey." He pointed with an earnest face.

Regina looked down the warm fur she was covered by, and, sure enough, there it sat, watching her just like Roland had been.

"I think it was both of you," she smiled at the boy, who kept rocking on the balls of his feet with gusto. Robin was nowhere in sight. "Where's your Papa?"

"Out for wood for fire. I'm watching you now." He stuck out his chest proudly, so much that the buttons on his green camisole strained.

Regina fought back a chuckle. He was so adorable, the way he took his task so seriously. He'd been keeping a really close watch over her, that much was certain. Before she knew it, she reached for his hand.

"Thank you," she winked at the child, and Roland tried to wink back, but ended up blinking every time. After several attempts, he gave up with a shrug and a giggle.

"So, you want anything, Regina?" Roland offered, making a solemn face again.

"I don't need anything, sweetheart." His face fell the tiniest bit, and although he still seemed cheery enough, Regina's eyes darted around the room. "Maybe a sip of water?" she added hastily.

Roland nodded keenly and ran to get her the wineskin. His feet tapped on the beaten earth floor as he hurried back. Regina drank up. It had actually been a good idea, some life seemed to be returning to her as she drank. Roland stood by her bed again, shuffling his feet. There was nothing else she could think of for him to do, and who knew how long he'd been standing guard there anyway.

"Regina?" he piped as soon she put the wineskin aside.

"Yes?"

"May I come climb in there?" He fixed her with those irresistible eyes of his and tugged at the fur.

"Oh...well-" She felt inexplicably self-conscious all of a sudden. Roland let go of the fur and just gazed at her expectantly. How could anyone say no to him? "Of course."

A wide grin appeared on his face as he set to climb up. Regina squirmed back towards the wall to make room, but just then Roland stopped with one leg flung over the bed and the other hanging in the air, and looked at her with a small frown.

"What is it?"

"I won't hurt you?" he asked, suddenly looking fearful.

Her heart melted.

"No, it's alright." She ran her fingers through his hair. "You won't hurt me."

Roland needed no more. He swiftly climbed under the fur and edged closer to her.

Regina let her arm rest around the little boy.

It'd been so long... And it hadn't been this boy, but another one, one she missed so much it hurt, and right now the pang of pain and the sting of guilt were worse than ever. _My little prince_. How she wished for him.

So what was she doing with this child right here? Well, what was she supposed to do? He was a little boy who seemed to have taken to her, he was absolutely endearing, and truth be told, having someone like her was still so new and astonishing to her that she couldn't help embracing it to some extent.

Roland tugged at her hand. "Don't be sad," he stroked her face clumsily - but the gesture itself was plenty to handle. So he'd noticed. Regina gave the boy a crooked smile.

"I'll tell you a story. Papa tells me stories when I'm sad or sick," he explained. "They help."

She smiled, and this time it was perfectly genuine. Yes, that sounded like something Robin might be good at.

"It's a story about a pig in a wig," Roland began gleefully. Regina chuckled. This was a promising start. "You know why this pig has a wig?"

Regina shook her head, the smile still glued to her face.

So Roland plunged into a tale of one ridiculous mishap after another: it involved a family of pigs going to the barber's, with one little piglet wreaking havoc and causing papa pig to end up with a horrible haircut, which he then tried to hide this under a wig, then eventually chose to go bald instead. "And so because he was the only pig with no hair, his family got no hair, too!" Roland laughed. "And now all pigs don't have no hair!"

The sound of his laughter and her own rang in her ears - when had she last laughed like that?

"Never fails to brighten the day," Robin snorted from the door. He must have come back just as Roland was finishing a story. He deposited an armful of firewood by the fireplace.

Regina released her hold on Roland, expecting him to jump straight out to join Robin, but the boy remained snuggled to her.

"How are you feeling?" Robin gave her a glance in between two logs thrown onto the fire.

"I'm quite well." The unease was returning along with Robin's presence. Regina was tired of it, now more than before. They were confined to spend a lot of time together, and every second of it had her nerves on edge. It was unbearable, and she wasn't sure how long she could last. And what exactly would happen then?

Roland twisted under the fur to face Robin. "Papa, I telled Regina a story and now she's not sad!"

Robin gave her another brief look, then smiled at Roland. "I can see that - a job well done. Breakfast," he announced, and Roland crawled out of bed and pitter-pattered to get his bowl. Regina's lips twitched - at this age, they were always hungry.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, hissing slightly at the sudden protest of her muscles. Robin handed her the porridge. There wasn't much variation to their diet anymore, especially now that there was nowhere to get fresh meat from. Not that she was complaining. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of the steaming food reached her nostrils. She stretched and leaned against the wall, screwing up her face at the stab of pain in her neck.

"Are you always so hot-headed?" Robin adjusted the fur, which had slipped off as she was sitting up. He grinned at the indignation written on her face. "Well, of course you are."

"Let's just say patience is hardly one of my virtues." Sometimes it worked out for the better, this flaring temper of hers, but it would just as often get her in trouble, too. As long as she was only putting herself at risk, it was fine, but... Her eyes rested on Roland, who was sitting by the fire licking even the smallest shred of porridge off the spoon. Then she glanced at Robin, just for a second. "I thought I could do this," she swallowed, "but I jeopardised your lives, too."

Robin was looking at her - she could tell even though she was refusing to look at him, keeping her eyes on Roland the whole time.

"Next time maybe you'll listen to reason," His tone wasn't too harsh - not as harsh as she deserved. Perhaps that was because her life had been in danger recently - but even that had been her own stupid fault. "Regina..." he began, and she waited.

But whatever he was going to say was being delayed, and unwilling though she was, she eventually gave in to the unspoken expectation and turned to him.

"Do you think maybe your magic sort of - runs away with you, sometimes?"

It was the most careful he was able to phrase the question, but the problem was that he was even mentioning it in the first place.

"You didn't mind my magic when it helped save your son." Oh, crap. She shouldn't have said that. Of course he hadn't minded then, what parent would? She'd sell her soul a thousand times over for Henry, it was only logical Robin would do the same for Roland. It must have been her injury speaking, and all her past experience of this.

People had often treated her magic, and her with it, exactly like this. She was perfectly welcome to use it in dire straits when it would help them, but anything beyond that was unacceptable. Regina had felt used before, even though she'd never spoken about it. Now poor Robin would carry all the weight of past injuries.

Indeed, he bowed his head. "I… You're right," he sighed. "I could think of no other means then. But now," Robin gestured to the fireplace, "we could have managed a fire without it. It's…I just think sometimes you'd be better off without it." All this concern was for her now? "But of course that's not my call," Robin finished.

"No," she said, "it's not."

He had no idea what magic had come to represent in her life. It had made her feel empowered back when she'd first started learning to use it. She would no longer be helpless in its face. Of course she'd come to rely on it increasingly through the years, but that was only logical.

In Storybrooke, she'd lived twenty-eight years without magic, and had done just fine without it, too. At first it had been strange, but in the end it had been some kind of relief - until it returned and she had magical enemies again. Then she'd come to rely on magic too heavily once more, so much so that she'd ended up seeking out Dr Hopper's help. Could the same thing be happening again? Perhaps Robin had too good an idea after all.

Regina squinted up at him. "You'd better be ready to get some more firewood then if you want to keep that fire going."

Robin smiled and nodded.

He crossed to the fire and reached to take Roland's bowl, but the boy held on to it and began to lick it clean, getting bits of porridge right up to his ears. Regina chuckled as Robin ruffled Roland's hair.

"Would you care for some tea?" he turned to her from the fireplace.

"The bitter mess?" The tea he'd brewed her back when she had gotten herself a cold had been one of the most atrocious things she had ever tasted.

Robin smirked and put on water to boil. "You have to admit you deserved it back then - and it's an effective infusion despite the foul taste." He retrieved his bag and began to rummage about. "Not this time, though. I'll make you a treat."

"You certainly seems to have a plethora of herbs," she noted. Clearly he was a fan of tea. Regina grinned. In folklore, Robin Hood was an Englishman. The stereotype seemed to fit.

Robin glanced up from the contents of the bag with a grin. "You have your potion kit, I have mine."

"I do not have a potion kit." Well, to be fair, she used to have one. What had remained of it, however, had been stolen by some anonymous thief - even though there was an obvious suspect, of course. Either way, her ingredients were gone. "At least not anymore."

Once the tea was ready, Regina accepted the mug with reservations. The aromatic scent filled her nostrils. It was definitely not unpleasant. It seemed Robin hadn't been pulling her leg with the promise of a treat. She took a small sip and raised an eyebrow. The tea was hot and tasty, and rather refreshing.

Roland was asleep in front of the fireplace, an empty cup hanging from his hand. Regina smiled at the sight of the little storyteller exhausted by eating and drinking.

"You know, your take on pigs being hairless is quite unique."

Robin chuckled with her back to her, adding some herb or another to his cup.

"You weren't aiming to kill me," she said after a while of silence.

Robin turned to her in surprise, then his eyes slid to the mug in her hands. His eyes twinkled. "Of course not, I'm trying to cure you. It's tea, not poison."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I meant at Rumple's library." The thought had occurred to her a while ago, after she'd had several opportunities to witness Robin's prowess at archery. There was no way he'd missed back at the Castle.

"Indeed I wasn't." He sat down at the foot of her bed, nursing a cup of his own. "How about your little piece of magic?"

She pulled her legs in on impulse, so she and Robin weren't touching. "It would have immobilised you." It would have done no harm to keep those legs where they'd been. Now it didn't matter anymore. "But you had to duck, didn't you?" she taunted. "That almost cost you your life."

He played along, taking a sip of tea. "Thankfully, it only cost a couple of books and a shelf."

"None of them yours," she continued to nag at him playfully.

"A shame all the same," Robin shrugged, "but better them than me."

She silently agreed.

* * *

><p>Robin was sitting up at night to maintain the fire, passing the time by carving a piece of wood into a horse. He gave Roland a long look. Even the idea of his joy at the new toy was enough to make Robin smile. His eyes travelled to Regina next. Wrapped in the heavy fur, not an inch of her showing but her forehead and the long hair spread across the sheet, she had to still feel some remnant of the cold in her bones. Robin threw another log on the already blazing fire.<p>

That damn obstinacy of hers. Yet his anger and annoyance, so useful for fighting the icy element, had evaporated as soon as he'd retrieved her from beneath the snow, and had been replaced by gentleness instead once it was time to nurse her back to health. He crossed to her and just stood over the bed, watching her brow - that was as much as he could make out above the rim of the fur. Well, he was certainly spending a lot of time doing this, considering. What would she think if she found him gaping at her like that?

Robin turned away. What a fool he was, acting like a common creep. Yet there had been nothing creepy about his intentions. He'd simply watched her as he'd watch Roland sleeping - with affection and a protectiveness that made his heart swell. Robin ran a hand through his hair. Roland was one thing, he was his son, and it made perfect sense for him to feel that way. Regina, on the other hand... When had this gotten so...so intense?

Shaking his head, he was on his way back to the fireplace when Regina emitted a small groan. The fur rustled as she shifted in her sleep. Robin was by her side in a moment. Her brow was furrowed, her face scrunched up. Her breathing became heavy and laboured, as if she had been running, or was in some great distress. Was she in pain? Was this some awful kind of relapse?

Robin reached to pull the fur back over her. His hand brushed against her arm in the process, and she jerked violently, recoiling from his touch. He pulled back immediately, but she kept thrashing around, moaning quietly, her every breath quick and shallow.

"Regina."

"No..." she pleaded. Still her eyes remained closed. It was almost as if she were keeping them shut knowingly, refusing to see some awful reality. "I don't want to..."

"Regina. You don't have to," Robin soothed. He needed to get through to her and make an end to this, whatever it was. Pain was so clearly etched on her face that it couldn't be any clearer if she were screaming in agony. His hand went up to touch her face, but either she sensed it or there was some imaginary demon trying to do the same - her arms went up in a wild attempt to push some invisible intruder away.

"Stop it," she sobbed. "Please." Her voice broke, and she began to silently cry.

"Regina, it's alright," he began. His throat constricted at the sight of her, squirming away from him, squirming away from someone or something only she knew was there, her tears soaking her face, her hair, the sheets. In a frantic attempt to get away, her head came dangerously close to the rough bedpost in the corner. She trembled and threw herself further aside, and Robin acted on instinct, his hand shooting forward and covering the sharp edges of the pole. As she smashed her head against it, splinters of wood punctured his skin, and a sharp pain shot through his palm. Regina jerked away at the contact with his arm, uttering a sharp scream.

"Don't touch me!" she cried out.

Perhaps it was her own voice to finally shake her awake. Her eyes flew open, terror staring out of them. She pulled the fur to her, her fingers digging into it so hard her knuckles turned white, and she scrambled up all the way to the wall, pressing her back against it.

Robin withdrew his hand in a flash. The angry red gash across his palm barely registered as he tried to master his shock and mould his face into an expression of calmness and security.

"It's alright, you're alright. It was just a dream. You're safe."

Her eyes held the look of a hunted animal as she hugged the fur to her, looking around wildly.

"Papa!"

Robin turned just in time to catch the stumbling Roland and pick him up. Roland's arms snaked around Robin's neck as he stared at Regina, wide-eyed.

"Papa, what's wrong with Regina?" he whispered in a thin, fearful voice.

Robin glanced at her huddled in the corner. She trembled at Roland's words and some trace of recognition flashed through her eyes. Still clutching the fur, she looked at Roland, and her eyes finally regained some focus.

"Roland," she whispered.

The child squirmed in his arms, letting go of his neck with one hand, and reaching out to Regina hesitantly.

"It's alright, I'm alright," she swallowed.

Robin watched, astonished, as she slowly started regaining self-control. She forced her breathing back to normal and held Roland's gaze, chasing the shadows away from those brown eyes. Her fingers digging into the fur remained the only lingering sign of her distress.

"Everything is fine, Roland, I only had a nightmare, that's all." Her voice still shook a little, but she managed to brave a small smile.

Roland relaxed, and reached for Regina with both arms.

"Are you sure this is alright?" It was an incredible change she'd gone through under Roland's frightened look. The way the child's terror had taken precedence over her own made him wonder that maybe she wasn't doing this for the first time.

Regina nodded and let Roland climb beneath the fur to her. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes as she began to stroke his hair. Her hands trembled as she ran them through the child's hair, but with each stroke, the trembling grew less and less. Robin watched Roland resting peacefully on Regina's lap, glancing at her in turn every once in a while. They were soothing each other. This had to be one of the most amazing sights he'd ever set eyes on. Roland went back to sleep within minutes. Regina's hand lay on the fur just beside his head, without a tremble, free of tension, while the other still caressed the sleeping child.

Robin just stood there in silence. Maybe he should say something - there were dozens of questions and at least that many words of comfort and admiration on his tongue. Then again, words seemed redundant now - Regina, might be a little shaken still, looked almost at peace. Anything he could say might only upset her again.

Indeed, she seemed intent on avoiding Robin's eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I'll- I'll leave Roland with you, if that's-"

"Yes," she said simply, but still didn't look at him.

"Alright. If you need anything, I'll be over there."

One look - just one look to see how she was really holding up, to make sure she was going to be fine, and not just for the sake of Roland, but for herself this time. But it clearly wasn't meant to be. With a small sigh, he was about to turn away, when she raised her eyes to meet his.

In that brief moment, he rushed to read all he could in those wonderfully eloquent eyes of hers: remnants of anguish, but also tenderness; some ghastly shadow from the past, but also the recognition of a friendlier present; a briefly unveiled vulnerability, but also the spirit of inner strength. She didn't say anything, but the way her eyes shifted from his face to his scraped hand to Roland to his face again, and the little nod she gave him before averting her eyes again - all of this was more than enough.


	17. Stalemate

_The time has come for a time jump, so now we have Regina, Robin and Roland back with the others, and things are set in motion, approaching the casting of the Dark Curse. Hope you enjoy the build-up! I'm glad to get to write a little Tinkerbell at last, and Roland makes an appearance, too - he's just a joy to write.  
><em>

* * *

><p>The train of her robe trailed after her as she walked, rustling on the marble floor. As she passed the door and turned a corner, Regina slowed her pace, listening. Sure enough, the pitter-patter of steps, muffled slightly with great effort, followed her on. Like every morning for months now, it brought a smile on her face.<p>

The first time he'd done it, she'd freaked out at being followed like that - until she turned and found the spy was none other than the littlest Hood. He'd clung to her for the rest of the day, despite her brooding mood. Even when she settled down in the library to seek solitude and rest from the bustling life of the palace, Roland had slipped through the huge door after her. He climbed into the armchair next to hers and pulled a large tome from the discarded pile on the table between them, opened it on his lap, and gazed onto the pages with earnest interest. As Regina watched him, sitting with his legs sticking out in the air in a chair much too large for him, holding a book also too large for him, all her broodiness dissipated.

From that day on, Roland had taken to following her around the palace, his little feet trying to keep up with her. At some point, it had become a game they played. She'd pretend she didn't hear him at first. Then she'd occasionally wheel around with a great flourish of her gown to give him time to hide behind a corner, a door, or a suit of armour, only to stare foolishly into an empty corridor. Sometimes she'd hear him giggle at her supposedly futile attempts, and she'd snatch him from behind a statue and tickle him to fits of laughter. At other times, she'd wait for him to reveal himself, pretending to be scared out of her wits until he climbed into her arms and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

So he was right behind her today as well. Except her impish side seemed to be awake this morning. It was time to change it up on him a little. With a grin, Regina turned a corner and pressed herself against the wall. Roland soon emerged and walked on a few steps before he noticed his target had somehow disappeared. He looked around, tugging at his green camisole thoughtfully. Just when he was about to spot her, Regina rushed to him from behind, scooped him up in her arms and turned around a few times. Roland whooped and cheered her on, his laughter - and her own - setting the corridor a-ringing.

"G'morning, Regina," he called breathlessly as she set him down, and craned his neck for a kiss, which she willingly gave.

"Morning, sweetheart." Regina adjusted his clothes while he fidgeted impatiently.

"Will you come riding with me today?"

He'd ask her the same question every day. Robin had started giving him lessons, since Aurora and Philip happened to have a pony in their stables, and Regina had once mentioned to Roland she'd had her first when she was just about his age. Regina had never before given in to Roland's pleading, though, never once joined them on the practice field. She was spending plenty of time with Roland, but very little with Robin - and that suited her. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

"Let's have breakfast now, alright?"

The hall was empty when they entered. Regina liked it that way, and anyway it'd fill soon enough. The table was already set, and Regina got some porridge and fruits for Roland before she helped herself.

The door opened and Robin walked in. Regina tensed immediately, yet at the same time her eyes refused to leave him as he made his way to Roland sitting next to her.

"Papa!" the boy called gleefully as Robin picked him up and tossed him in the air.

"Almost ready for riding practice, eh?" Robin ruffled Roland's hair once he'd deposited him back on the bench and glanced at his plate.

"Regina's coming with us today," Roland announced innocently.

When had she said such a thing? She was always careful not to make the promise to him, since she'd never intended to keep it in the first place. No, she§d most certainly said no such thing.

Her stomach gave a jolt when Robin's eyes rested on her. These chance meetings still unnerved her, even though they only happened rarely - or was it because they were so rare that they unnerved her all the more? Once Robin had caught up on her blatant mission of avoiding him a few months ago, he'd stopped seeking her out. It had taken a change in strategy she didn't really understand - she was no longer cold and unpleasant, but simply uncompromisingly evasive. For some reason, it worked. Not once had they been alone since they arrived to the palace and joined the others.

Now their eyes were locked for a longer while than they had been in ages, and Robin's searching look roused a tremour she'd almost forgotten but now felt come alive again with renewed force. This was all wrong, this wasn't supposed to be happening. After so long, she'd come to convince herself that whatever she'd felt for Robin before was surely gone by now. Until now - until this intense look of his rekindled a spark of...of something she'd worked so hard to put out. Was that a hopeful look he was giving her?

"I never- I didn't-" she stuttered, looking from Robin to Roland. How did she make it clear to one that she wasn't changing her mind about their current non-relationship, without hurting the other with her repeated dismissal?

A shadow crossed Robin's face at her words, but he just nodded and didn't comment. He gave his son a smile and sat down to eat.

Roland began chattering away to the both of them, but Regina's mind was someplace else. Clearly Robin was no longer looking her way - so why did she still feel those blue eyes on her? Was he judging her?

Or was she in fact second-guessing the cowardly way out she'd chosen - again?

The creak of the door salvaged her from further thought. Snow White made her way through with Aurora in tow, the two of them chatting animatedly, each with a hand resting on her very pregnant stomach. Were they aware of it at all? The gesture seemed to come naturally, instinctively, unconsciously. Regina wouldn't know, of course, she'd never been pregnant herself.

But she had a baby out there nonetheless... Her little prince, a son who didn't remember her, who lived his life somewhere unaware of the chunk of heart he was carrying around wherever he went - the heart Regina had given up to him so willingly twelve years ago.

Regina fought to push the tears back, to get the room back in focus.

Charming and Phillip followed their wives in, and moments later, the hall was full of Merry Men as well. Little John and Mulan were missing - it must have been their turn to patrol the forest. They still kept doing that, even though it had been weeks since the last suspicious activity.

Regina's fingers began hitting the wood of the table in a distraught, agitated manner.

The last few months had been wasted in fruitless attempts to locate the Witch or her army, or gather evidence of her plans. There'd been a few successes along the way, but nothing Regina found even remotely satisfactory. The Charmings had managed to raise a humble army while she and Robin were away, but by the time they had, suddenly there was not a single Cyclops to fight. Belle and Neal had gone off on their own, intent to find out more about Rumpelstiltskin's demise - or lack thereof, as they apparently still preferred to believe. They hadn't heard from them ever since.

Regina had spent some time perusing the palace's library, even though it was by no means a magical one in the way Rumple's was. She'd come across a few books that held interesting information on mythical monsters and even a few that included traces of magic a non-magical person would never uncover. Still, it was nothing of importance to their present situation.

Meanwhile, an abandoned village was set on fire once in a while, but even this was happening with much less gusto, apparently. No one had, to their knowledge, fallen victim to the stolen sleeping curse. Whatever plan the Witch was brewing, the quieter she was the more Regina believed they had cause to worry.

"Regina," a small hand tugged at her sleeve. "Regina, come on, it's time to go."

A pair of brown eyes stared up at her with a plea issuing from them. Normally she managed to juggle this fairly well, but today it seemed it wasn't meant to be. Today, he'd probably be crushed. Wouldn't it be better if she joined them after all? For Roland's sake, of course. She glanced at Robin only to catch him looking at her with unguarded anticipation. That changed everything. Perhaps if he hadn't looked, she would have give in to this urge, but now she couldn't lie to herself. The idea was dangerous, and she had no choice but to remain reasonable, stick to what she'd resolved herself to a while ago.

"Roland," she sighed, "I don't really-" Roland's face began to fall, and Regina cursed fate for having put her in this situation. She fought the urge to check the effect of her words on Robin, and stroked the boy's cheek instead. "Roland, sweetheart, I-"

Miraculously, Regina was spared the rest: the door swung open once again, and this time all heads turned - they were all gathered in the room with no one missing. Whoever the newcomer was, their arrival could mean some breaking news at last.

There was a collective gasp when Belle stumbled into the hall, dishevelled and exhausted. She was alone, and she looked ghastly. Her face must have gone unwashed for days, and tracks of tears had drawn clearer paths in the dirt on her cheeks. They were getting news after all - but none of it good.

After the initial shock, chairs scraped as multiple people jumped out of their seats, rushing to Belle. In moments, she was seated at the head of the table with bowls of food set before her, but she touched none of it. She only reached for a cup of wine and drained it in a heartbeat. She poured herself another, and it disappeared like the first. Her thirst seemed unquenchable. No, not her thirst - her misery.

Regina shuffled in her seat. Rumple had been dead for a while, and no one except Belle and Neal, who had of course been closest to him, had seemed to believe otherwise. Yet Regina felt an unpleasant stab now. The thought of the Dark One gone had felt odd then, and it felt odd now. She couldn't have said how it made her feel, but it definitely wasn't happy. They'd had so much history, and twisted though their relationship had always been, it had been too often that she'd only had Rumple to turn to.

Belle reached to refill her cup a fourth time, but this time the jug was pried away from her. Regina's chest burned at the sight of Robin setting the jug aside and patting Belle on the shoulder. They'd known each other from before, Robin had told her that, of course - apparently Belle had helped him once to escape Rumple's prison. Belle put the the cup down, and Robin gave her hand a squeeze before he went to sit at the nearest vacant spot a few places down the table.

A sting of pain in her finger made Regina look down. She'd never known when she started scratching the table with her nails digging into the board, and now there was a splinter lodged right under one of her fingernails. She threw Belle a dirty look, then gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was she doing? One glance at Robin, and she closed her eyes briefly. _Pull yourself together_. Robin wasn't in any way hers, so even if the gesture towards Belle had meant something, which it hadn't, Regina would have no reason to be jealous ... which she most certainly wasn't.

Still she felt a chill down her spine when Robin looked her way, until in fact she understood the look was meant for Roland. Once Belle started her recounting of her journey, Roland had better not be there to hear it. Regina looked around - would Robin take him or would it be someone else? As if in answer, Alan-a-Dale approached them and lifted Roland from the bench. So Robin didn't want to miss this either. Not that Alan was any happier to - he looked positively frustrated, even though Roland tugging at his lute did charm a smile onto his frowning face. Regina grinned inwardly - Alan would be deprived of a first-hand report of what could be a heroic song in the future.

As Alan left with Roland, though, Belle was still sitting with her face in her hands. This didn't bode well.

"Rumple's back," Belle muttered at long last.

Despite the relative distance and her muffled voice, the words came across clear in the perfect silence - everyone seemed to sit with bated breath. Something heavy seemed to have fallen off Regina's chest, but not for long. This should be good news - yet for some reason it wasn't.

"The Witch has his dagger."

Regina groaned. A collective murmur rose around Belle. Everyone seemed to want to say something or spill questions at her. Regina knew perfectly well what this meant, though. The Witch was one thing, but now they had the Dark One against them, too, and that was a much bigger problem.

"Everybody calm down," Charming's voice boomed across the room. "Belle, where's Neal?"

Belle stared ahead for a while, raised the empty glass to her lips, then set it down again. Ruby, who'd been sitting next to Belle all the while with an arm over her, poured her a glass of water, which Belle eyed with disinterest.

"Dead." Her voice sounded much the same.

It all went downhill from there.

* * *

><p>Before being escorted to a chamber to wash up and get some sleep, Belle managed to tell them briefly about their journey to Rumple's castle, their discovery of an enchanted candelabra, how it had led them to the Dark One's vault, how Neal refused to listen to Belle when she discovered the candelabra's lie, and how he had paid with his life for bringing Rumpelstiltskin back. Technically, of course, he was still around, sharing a body with his father, but he was as good as dead.<p>

And the Wicked Witch controlled the Dark One, and they still had no clue what her ultimate endgame was or how to stop her.

Regina's fingers twitched. Another council was about to commence - another hour, or more, spent playing the guessing game. The same ideas would be brought up over and over again with the same amount of supporting evidence - none. On a good day, someone would chip in with a new theory, usually involving a ridiculous notion of the workings of magic, which Regina would refute: with annoyance in the past, nowadays merely with a touch of apathy.

After an opening pep talk from Charming - a very unsatisfactory one, so apparently the Charmings, too, were running out of incentive - a dispirited discussion started. It involved increased patrols around the castle and in the wider forest area in hopes of collecting more information now that the Witch had clearly gotten closer to attaining whatever she was after. It was agreed that Ruby and Granny Lucas, utilising their superior wolf senses, would each lead a small group of scouts.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Robin stood up to speak.

It wasn't so much the fact that he wanted to speak that was so unusual; it was his demeanour about it. He swallowed several times, his eyes darting from person to person in turn but never meeting hers. Regina leaned forward in her chair involuntarily - Robin actually looked nervous. He'd never had trouble speaking in public before, so it had to be something else, but he couldn't possibly have new information - where would he have obtained it? Then his eyes lingered on her, and Regina's stomach dropped. He seemed positively repentant, apologetic, even. A foolish fright overcame her for a moment. What on earth was he going to say?

Robin's eyes wandered to the window.

Heads turned just as a bright blue light materialised from thin air and morphed into the Blue Fairy. Regina suppressed a groan - this meant more bad news. The fairies hadn't shown up in months now, not since they'd set to the task of stacking up as much fairy dust as possible to use against the Witch when the time came. If the Witch had learnt about this, she'd definitely have made sure to try and foil their attempts.

"Blue," Snow breathed. "What happened?"

"The fairy dust is gone."

As unsurprised as Regina was, it was still a slap in the face. This Witch always seemed to be ahead of them, no matter what they did.

"We thought maybe," she floated above the table and turned to Regina, "the Queen would know something about this."

Regina's jaw dropped, and it was a moment before she remembered to close her mouth. Indignation bubbled up in her and disappeared, replaced by something worse, a sinking sensation she'd felt before but not in a while - the horrible feeling of being misjudged and outcast. It was all the worse now because she'd come to not expect it anymore, after all these months of being treated - well, like part of a...a team.

"No one's accusing you of anything, Regina." A hand rested on her shoulder. Regina winced and turned around, utterly vexed, but Tinkerbell's sympathetic expression gave her pause. "Blue just meant, maybe you can think of some reason the Witch might want it."

"_A_ reason?" Regina said sarcastically, her umbrage leaving its mark on the tone. "There are countless possibilities with all the ways fairy dust can be utilised," she looked the Blue Fairy in the face, "as you very well know."

"Of course I know," the fairy nodded with dismay, "but as to other fields of magic, you're the only asset we have. With the Dark One on her side..."

Had she just been called an asset? An asset. It could be a compliment if it hadn't struck a different note - an asset was an object, a tool you used when appropriate, then disposed of it when no longer needed. The wretched fairy didn't even bother with her choice of words: she didn't say Regina was their _best_ asset - no, she was their _only_ one, suggesting that if there were other options, Regina wouldn't even have been considered. No matter how hard she tried to distance herself, to keep a straight face, this still felt like a punch in the stomach.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you." She rose from the table. "I have nothing to offer. I hear the Dark One's library is free for usage these days if you're looking for a reference book on magic."

Tinkerbell made a feeble attempt to hold her back but Regina twisted her arm out of her reach and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut.

* * *

><p>Regina stormed through the palace, whipping up a rage she could blame the burn in her eyes on. The door of the hall banged shut in the distance, and she quickened her pace.<p>

"Regina!"

She gritted her teeth - Robin was the last person she wished to talk to right now.

"Regina, wait," he called just steps behind her.

How in the hell had he caught up so fast? She should have just poofed herself to her chamber.

She turned to him abruptly. "I don't wish to ta-" she spat but stopped mid-sentence, thrown by how close they were. Robin's breath practically mingled with hers. Their eyes locked for a moment, he drank in her face, but before she had time to collect herself and react, Robin took a step back.

"Look," he said insistently, his hand flying up to the back of his neck, "the Blue Fairy made a mistake. I-"

"I don't care, alright?" It was almost true - a part of her stirred at his words. So someone had noticed. Someone actually wasn't blaming her for once. But in the end, it did nothing to change her mind. "I'm not going back."

Robin shook his head. "I'm not asking you to."

Regina couldn't help her attention being sparked a notch. What had he come running after her for then? Her stomach flipped. She'd been avoiding him and, though unwillingly at first, he respected that. Was he going to reopen the door she had so hastily closed after making barely a step towards the promise it held?

He took a deep breath before he continued. "But I need to talk to you."

Regina's alarm went off, and a pinch of annoyance crept in, too. "I don't want to talk, Robin, all this fruitless talk drives me crazy. I want to be alone."

He looked at her closely, and she rearranged her features into a neutral but unrelenting expression. Robin's fingers twitched briefly, as if he wanted to reach out to her, and he fiddled with a pouch on his belt instead. "This...might be important."

"Might be?" Surely if it were truly important, he'd know. This sounded like another piece of crazy guesswork at best. "That's not good enough for me right now."

For a moment, his shoulders relaxed and he almost looked relieved, then he tensed again. "Maybe later, then."

"Don't count on it."

* * *

><p>As soon as the door closed on her chamber, Regina lost the heavily guarded mask and let her frustration out on the stone wall, slamming her fist on the cold surface. The accursed Witch had more leeway over them than ever before, they were losing on every front, and now the preposterous Blue Fairy had decided to lose all the fairy dust and blame it on Regina? After just one punch, though, exhaustion overcame her, and she dragged herself to the bed, only to find someone already sitting there.<p>

"What- How did you-?" Regina frowned in frustration. The fairy had magicked herself in, of course. Would Regina never have a moment of peace and quiet around these people?

"Regina, you really shouldn't storm out on people like that. We-"

"You came all the way here to lecture me?"

"No. If you'd given us a chance you'd have seen that." Tinkerbell shifted on the bedside. Regina sat down with a sigh. Heavens, was she tired of the whole wretched situation. Tink laid a hand on her shoulder. "Blue wasn't very tactful."

"Well, the wording was quite unfortunate, but I assume that's exactly what she meant anyway."

"Not everyone agreed."

"No one objected."

"After you left, Snow confronted Blue. She said-"

"It doesn't matter." But that was a lie - it did matter. At least someone had bothered to stand up for her, even if it had been too late, and it was Snow White of all people.

"And Robin Hood?" Regina's breath hitched at the name. If Tinkerbell was to start with this now, she might just have to storm out of her own chamber for a change. Tinkerbell was either oblivious to her tension or it was precisely that which prompted her on. "He doesn't matter, either? He dashed off after you the moment you were gone. What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter." This wasn't about Robin. There was something else, something that'd been nagging at her for montjs with more and more ferocity, something she hadn't voiced once, not even to herself - and the pent up frustration spilled over. "Don't you understand? I have nothing!" The startled look on Tinkerbell's face at the sudden outburst made her take a deep breath befofre she continued, a little calmer but still upset. "This isn't about me simply being offended. The threat is real, I'm well aware of that, and the priority remains to end this Witch. The trouble is," she hesitated, looking Tinkerbell in the eyes. She saw nothing but sincere interest there, maybe a notch of sympathy that left her uncertain whether to appreciate it or be annoyed by it. "I have no idea what the Witch wants. I have no more idea than any of you. And Blue's right about one thing - if anyone should know, it's me. But I don't."

Regina's frustration came from a vulnerable place - it wasn't all injured pride or sensibilities. It was worse than that - she felt like a failure. Everyone was chipping in in their own ways in the search after the foe, and they were all coming up empty-handed, just like her. But Regina was different - magic was her field of expertise. It was her responsibility to defend them, to figure out the uses to which the Witch was putting magic, and she was certain it would be her to overcome it with magic of her own eventually. She was the logical candidate to do all these things. She wasn't an eternal optimist like Snow White, or a leader of people like Charming, she lacked Robin's self-possession or Granny Lucas' sharpened senses. The only way she was useful to anyone was her magic. And now it was failing - she was failing.

"Well, it's not like we have many clues, is it?" Tinkerbell shrugged, smiling wanly.

Regina breathing a little more easily. She had it off her chest now, and Tinkerbell made for quite a nice listener. Even years ago they'd stricken up quite a nice and pleasant rapport. Perhaps that was something to build upon, though how exactly that was done Regina had yet to learn.

"Maybe I should have returned to the Dark Castle weeks ago," Regina voiced a long debated thought. "But books won't help me find motive, and motive is everything. It tells you how determined the foe is, or how desperate, and to what lengths you can expect them to go."

"The Witch seems pretty determined to me. So do you, by the way."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw the tattoo."

Regina groaned. She couldn't deal with this right now.

"So you did know about it." Tinkerbell shook her head in incredulity and gave her a hard look. "Regina, are you running away again?"

As a matter of fact, she was. There was no point glossing things over for either the fairy's or her own sake - she'd practically been on the run from Robin for months. The admission tasted bitter on her tongue, but fear tasted worse. And having new, fragile shoots of hope shattered, that was the worst. Tinkerbell didn't understand the agony of that, but Regina did, and it was more than she was willing to risk.

So Regina averted her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

But Tinkerbell was unrelenting. "Are you sure?"

The actual doubt in her voice made Regina want to scream. Why was Tinkerbell acting so condescending with her? The fairy laid a hand on Regina's shoulder. Regina fought back a flinch. In the end, it wasn't a bad thing - maybe one day she'd learn to fully appreciate such gestures without recoiling in consequence of her unhealthy past relationships.

"Because it seems to me that's just what you need," Tinkerbell went on, "to talk to a friend."

Regina wasn't sure what the word had stirred in her. Tinkerbell had called her a friend once before, just before Regina had shattered any friendly sentiment the fairy might have harboured for her by pushing her away - even friendship had seemed unattainable and threatening at the time. How about now? Was she seriously going to throw this away, too? Had she not learnt anything? She chanced a glance at the fairy, who gave her an encouraging, though somewhat anxious half-smile. No, she didn't want to hurt her the way she had striven to back then. But the bonding topic wasn't to her liking at all.

"There's a Witch breathing down our necks," Regina mustered, "and you want to gossip about boys?"

"Don't try to deflect." Damn, Tinkerbell seemed to see right through her this time. Well, she wasn't stupid. "The Witch is not here, we have no clues to work with, and it's just a few minutes anyway."

"This is no time for romance," Regina said feebly, knowing she was coming up short but playing for time.

"Amongst all the chaos there is always room for love."

"Love?" Regina bristled. This was yet another buzzword that made her back off in alarm. "There's nothing between us, and there won't be. We're just - friends." Were they, though? Well, she had no better word for it, they were most certainly not enemies and they'd worked themselves past mere acquaintances, too. For what little she knew of friendship, Robin had indeed been a friend to her - for as long as she'd let him, anyway.

Tinkerbell pulled back a little and surveyed her. Regina shrunk back uncomfortably under her searching eyes.

"But you have feelings for each other," Tinkerbell said slowly.

"How can you possibly be so sure?"

"I'm not blind, Regina. I saw the way the two of you look at one another."

"You did?" How did they look at one another? And when? _Oh, just all the time_, a mocking voice peeped inside her head. It was true. She had been stealing glances at him, and sometimes - often - she'd catch him doing the same. "It doesn't matter." But it did, of course it did. The more she insisted it didn't the more it mattered. Her stomach tightened. Suddenly, she was that girl from years ago again, standing in front of the tavern the fairy had pointed out as the location of her soulmate. "I can't deal with this," she blurted in a strained voice. "I just can't."

Tinkerbell squeezed her shoulder. "Why don't you at least try?"

"What if it doesn't work?" She meant it, she knew straight away. _What if it doesn't work_ had effectively joined her biggest worry of _what if she finds they have something and loses it again_.

"What if it does?"

Regina scoffed, but her eyes burned. "What are the odds of that?" Things didn't exactly have a way of working out that well for her - especially not in the area of relationships of any kind.

"You'll never know if you don't even try. He seems like a good guy to me."

_Oh, you have no idea_.

"Is there anything wrong with him I don't know about? An extra toe? Or some vital part missing?"

Tinkerbell's attempt to make light of the tense atmosphere was a nice touch, but it wasn't enough.

"No." Regina stared at her hands.

Robin did seem like a good guy. He was kind and loyal and had a strong moral code, yet he wasn't judgemental and didn't moralise. He was brave and he had honour. He was neither a wolf nor a sheep, but something in between, or a bit of both - he didn't fit into Regina's simplistic model of the world. Indeed, he'd successfully uprooted what remained of a view she'd already come to suspect was faulty. He was a constant challenge to her sharp tongue, matching her taunts with clever comebacks of his own. He respected her boundaries, even when it clearly didn't suit him.

So how was it possible that he'd managed to ever so gently push those boundaries out of the way an inch at a time? He'd even undermined some of the unfavourable notions she'd nurtured about herself - or he'd tried to. No, there was nothing wrong with Robin Hood.

"Not with him," she whispered.

"Regina, you need to give yourself a chance at happiness." The fairy paused and inclined her head. "You deserve it."

"Do I?"

"Yes." Tink's answer was sincere, she could see that - the fairy had always been an open book, and she wasn't playing at anything this time either. Regina's eyes stung as Tinkerbell smiled at her. "You do."


	18. Pieces of the Puzzle

_First of all, thanks for the lovely feedback on last chapter. Your interest in this story keeps me writing even when life interferes hard, like it has done these days. This chapter answers some long-standing questions and opens some new ones to keep you on your toes. On the bright side, this is almost purely OQ interaction. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Knock-knock-knock<em>, the mirror went under his knuckles. Nothing happened. No enchanted face appeared in it, no strangely enhanced image of Robin's own, and certainly no mysterious voice issued from its depths.

Robin sighed. Roland had a vivid imagination. It could easily be that Regina would come - if she came at all, that is - and confirm that the mirror was nothing more than just a common looking glass. What else could it be anyway?

Robin had, of course, heard about the Queen's obsession with mirrors, as the people would believe, as well as the many stories of what atrocious uses she'd been putting them to, spying being the least of them. They all sounded exaggerated, especially since he hadn't seen Regina use a mirror ever since they met. There'd been the broken, shattered one in the corridor of her palace, but even then she hadn't seemed too distraught by the sight.

The door opened and Roland rushed through it, chattering excitedly to a half-smiling Regina he was leading by the hand. Robin's lips twitched at the sight. She was great with him and the boy adored her. The occasional shadow of pain that crossed her face when she was with Roland never failed to tug at his heart. Yet despite the fact that his son brought forth bittersweet memories of her own more than anything else did, Regina hadn't pushed Roland away. Robin felt quite an irrational, highly inappropriate sting of envy, and an immediate onset of shame at it.

"Roland tells me there's a genie in the mirror." Her voice woke him from the momentary wanderings of his mind: the memory of how her hand had felt in his once, before her walls had run so high and thick he barely gained a glimpse inside anymore, let alone passage.

"Yes, I- didn't see anything, though."

"Papa," Roland wagged a finger at him, chiding with a laugh in his voice, "I telled you, the mirror will speak only with Regina."

"You're right, Roland," he grinned, "you really told me that." Robin looked at her with a small shrug. Was this even possible? If so, he would rather like to see it.

"Alright, sweetheart," Regina crouched to his level. "I'll talk to the genie now. Why don't you go and find Little John, and show him those drawings you made?"

"Okay," Roland nodded brightly. Robin grinned - okay was Roland's new favourite word. Roland waved to Robin and hopped out of the room.

Robin's eyes returned to Regina, who had already approached the mirror. He hesitated - would she want to do this in privacy, or was he fine to stay?

"Could Roland have been right?" She'd been eyeing the mirror for a while now, in what he believed was a suspicious manner.

"Easily." Regina ran her fingers across the frame. "Not my mirror, of course, but the enchantment makes it possible to..."

Fascinated, Robin found himself just a step behind her, staring into the silver-coated glass once again, once again seeing nothing but his own reflection and hers. There was something almost unbearable about this doubled image of hers - twice the beauty, twice the ache of being so close to her and yet so far away.

A blue mist swirled in the mirror, and there was nothing like that behind them for the mirror to reflect. Robin took an involuntary step back. Particles of mist floated together and apart again, until eventually they settled in the form of a ghostly face.

Regina and the Mirror stared at each other for a while, each measuring the other.

"If the Witch wants to talk, she'd better come in person rather than sending cowardly messages through my former servant." Regina's voice dripped contempt, and the face in the mirror frowned.

"I may serve the Witch now," it said at long last in a hollow voice, "but this errand is purely my initiative."

"The wish is still in effect," Regina noted after a while. "That's why you can come and see me in spite of being under her control now.

"Correct."

"Do you have information for me?"

"Again, correct."

"Why? You have no love lost for me." The air seemed to grow colder for some reason as the Mirror's frown deepened, and the tension was almost tangible. "Perhaps an unfortunate choice of words." Regina's voice had lost it's sarcastic undertone.

Whatever it was about Regina's former statement that had irked the Mirror, it collected itself fairly soon. It cleared its throat and jeered.

"The Wicked Witch is far more atrocious now than the Evil Queen."

Robin's brow furrowed, and he glared at the Mirror. The Evil Queen? The slyly spoken words had a hollow and unfamiliar ring to them. Nothing Regina had done in the past months warranted the moniker - whereas it had seemed justified in the past, it was out of place today. Everyone should have noted that.

"Word is, you and the Charmings are a team now," the Mirror said, and Robin liked the jibe not a bit.

Regina, however, ignored the tone. "True," she nodded simply.

"You can use all the help you can get."

"Go ahead, then."

The Mirror put on a solemn face, and Robin prepared himself for the worst. Hadn't they had enough bad news for a day? What on earth could it possibly be this time?

"The Witch holds the Dark One's dagger."

"We already know that," Regina said impatiently. "It's why she knows so much about me." She grew quiet for a moment, an absent expression settling on her face. The clouds cleared up somewhat as she turned back to the Mirror. "And from you as well, I expect."

"Yes."

Regina nodded, following an unvoiced trail of thought. At least it seemed to make sense to her - Robin was more clueless than ever.

"So what is this Witch up to?" Robin's attention peaked as Regina cut to the chase. "There's been no sign of her for weeks."

"Her final plan remains hidden to me." Well, that was bad news, wasn't it? The Mirror seemed genuinely worried itself. "It requires various ingredients. The Witch has everything she needs-" the Mirror paused. "From this world."

Regina exhaled. "From this world?"

"Yes," the Mirror said darkly.

"Does she have it?"

The bluish face nodded.

"When will she cast it?"

The Mirror's forehead creased, its eyes darted somewhere Regina and Robin couldn't see, and an agitated look crossed its face.

Before there was time for further questions, the floor shook beneath their feet. Regina hurtled forward, grabbing the rattling mirror and keeping them both upright. Robin was thrown against an armchair facing the window. The sky had darkened in seconds and a great wind howled, sweeping up branches and uprooting trees. The walls seemed to shake and windowpanes rattled. An ear-splitting thunder deafened him momentarily.

Then everything was gone the way it had come, abruptly and without warning. The sky cleared again, branches and tree trunks crashed to the ground, and an eerie quiet settled upon the chamber and the world outside. Not a leaf stirred, not a bird sang.

"What the hell was that?" Robin scrambled back to his feet and turned to Regina. Thankfully, she, too, was unharmed.

She straightened the mirror and smoothed down her dress as if this sort of thing happened every day. But when she turned to him, Robin's stomach dropped at the shadow upon her face and the way she swallowed before responding.

"The Dark Curse."

Robin stared at her. Surely not...surely there was another explanation. His being fought against the fact it yearned to contend with - with no success. It was true - it had to be. He hadn't seen much of the Curse the last time, and perhaps it didn't even act the same when cast on different occasions. It wasn't for him to know, though - if someone did know their way about magic, it was Regina. Her reaction spoke for itself, and Robin didn't need the Mirror's confirmation, but looked at the sinister face anyway when it spoke.

"It hits tomorrow," the Mirror nodded gravely.

The Dark Curse. Robin had escaped it once, but this time it wouldn't be the case. What would it bring upon them? Would he be able to hold on to Roland? Or would he forget he ever had a son? Such a thing didn't seem possible, and yet… Regina's hand went up to her temple and she rubbed a few circles on it. The rising urge to reach out to her while he still could filled him with frustration. She didn't want him to, she'd been very clear about that. Yet his first instinct had been to grab Roland with one hand and Regina with the other and hold on to them as tight as he could in the face of this new, looming threat.

The Mirror fidgeted at some unheard noise and turned left and right, looking around hastily. "I must go."

"Wait," Robin stepped forward. He'd been considering this for far too long already. Maybe the Mirror, being in the Witch's possession, could answer his question. Robin glanced at Regina. Now was his chance to make sure, to clear this up once and for all. "Has this Witch ever mentioned a pair of magical slippers?"

He held his breath.

"She has," the Mirror eyed him curiously, " but she doesn't own them anymore."

Robin let out a long sigh. _Here we go_. About time, too, about time that he finally knew for certain. Of course the Witch didn't own the slippers anymore - Robin Hood knew more about their location that the Witch did. It seemed there was at least one advantage they had over their foe after all. But was it too late now?

The room came back to focus around him once Regina spoke hastily.

"Anything at all about her parentage?"

Robin glanced at her then back at the mirror. Of course Regina wanted to know if the allegations made by the Witch were true or not. If the Witch was indeed her sister, it would most likely be yet another bitter pill for her to swallow, and for her sake, Robin caught himself wishing it weren't true. Yet the information was of importance for a different reason as well, one Regina didn't knw yet, and this required the exact opposite outcome. Which would it be?

The Mirror raised an eyebrow. "She and the Dark One have discussed at length her being your half-sister. I didn't think it was important, considering the other news."

"No," Regina frowned. "It's not."

The face disappeared in a swirl of blue smoke, and the usual smooth surface of the mirror took its place once again.

Regina crossed the room and stopped by the window, looking out over the vast landscape stretching before them.

His spirits should be soaring now, for he had finally found an answer to a riddle posed to him decades ago, before the first Dark Curse had even been cast. Instead, all he could think of was her, the forced calm with which she had accepted the news, the clear intent to face up to it without a sign of weakness. Once again, as several times before, he felt a mighty urge to offer comfort - but, as before, it wasn't welcome. So Robin watched Regina's motionless, statuesque figure etched against the setting sun - the last sunset he was to see in this land, and quite possibly the last of Regina.

* * *

><p>Regina slammed her fist against the stone wall, but halfway through it she lost the momentum. Life seemed to be draining out of her slowly. The Witch was pocketing a win, and the fact that for her it clearly was just a temporary one, just one leg in a longer race, was doing nothing to make Regina feel any better about it. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the Curse once it had been cast. All they could do was wait for it to strike - and then start from ground zero again.<p>

The poise, controlled manner in which she'd managed to deliver the bad news hadn't done much to mitigate the effect on the others. Tears had welled up in Snow's eyes, and Regina's collectedness had all but gone at that moment, knowing well enough that Snow was remembering another time the Curse had snatched her away from her home, her husband, and her newborn child. _I'm sorry_, she found herself mouthing, and Snow just closed her eyes as the room erupted with exclamations, questions and curses.

Charming had stubbornly held on to the one hope that the Witch was bluffing and there wasn't a curse at all, or why would she let the mirror reveal her plans at the last minute? Until Regina told him, hating her own emotionless voice, that it was precisely the fact that her plan was irreversible that made the Witch so negligent of the revelation. She was probably even enjoying tormenting them with the knowledge of the impending end - and their helplessness in the face of it. Oh, how Regina hated her for that only!

Then voices had demanded Regina tell them where they'd be whisked away this time and what would happen to their memories - as if Regina had a way of knowing when she wasn't the one to have cast the wretched Curse this time around. There would be memory loss for certain - Regina was guessing the past year at the very least would be gone, so that the Witch could erase even what little progress they'd made in uncovering her plans.

Regina's fist landed on the hard stone again. Without even the memory of their foe, they'd be completely at her mercy.

What did the Witch want? What realm could possibly hold the key to her ultimate plan? Without a portal, even if they knew, it would be next to impossible to prevent it. But they didn't know, they still had no clue, and nothing the Mirror had told her was of any help. She should have asked about that instead of the stupid question about familial ties. No. The Mirror didn't know any more than they did, even the Witch wasn't stupid enough to have revealed so much.

_My sister_. Could it be true? It seemed so. There had been a time Regina would have given anything for a sibling, someone to share all the curiosities of her childhood with - a childhood by no means simple with a mother like Cora. A sister would have understood the things Regina would never have been able to share even with a friend, had she had one. In the end, it all came back to Cora - the mother who'd never bothered informing Regina that she had a sister at all. Why?

Regina huffed angrily and knocked a pile of books from the table in a wide gesture. It didn't matter why. Clearly, Cora'd had a past, and not one she wanted revealed. Perhaps that was clever. Regina's past, on the other hand, had been sold to Zelena by the Dark One and the Mirror. Every staged scene from her past, every reference, it all made sense now: the villages, the unicorn, the vipers. Zelena had all the advantages, and she'd have even more once Regina's memory was wiped clear by the Curse. There was nothing Regina could do but wait and hope for the best - and she'd never been particularly patient or optimistic to begin with.

As the afternoon dragged on, people came and went, peering into the room, even saying a few words now and again, then leaving after receiving no response. Snow didn't talk to Regina, but left her lunch and a tentative hand on her shoulder for a moment that brought an onslaught of remorse Regina didn't know what to do with. Tink floated in through the window but the fairy wasn't her cheerful self and left the same way again soon. Once, the door creaked open and she thought she spied Roland's dark eyes peering in before a hand pulled him back into the corridor and closed the door again.

Regina sighed. Well, there was no reason Robin would want to check on her - or even do anything but enjoy his son while he still could. Regina hoped against hope that father and son would wind up together wherever this Curse was taking them. As to her, she had nothing to expect from a man she'd decided to have as little to do with as possible.

_I ran again._

Regina was prodding the contents of her plate dispassionately when there was a knock on the door. She ignored it. There was nothing special about this one compared to the few others she's d hear in the past hour.

After two more rounds, Regina raised her head form the plate irritably, but not without a hint of curiosity. People would either leave or just come in without invitation, but whoever this was, they were neither leaving nor entering without eliciting a response first.

"I'm in no mood for company," Regina called.

"M'lady. A word, please."

Regina's heart leapt at his voice. So he had come after all. At the same time, her chest tightened. What did he want? This was a vulnerable time, and she wasn't sure she could handle his presence right now. Tinkerbell's words rang in her ears, and for a brief moment the idea of letting them stand so close - or closer - as that time in the courtyard when Robin held her hand, chased everything else away. Despite her efforts in the past months, she yearned to see him. It might be the last time.

"Come in," she sighed.

* * *

><p>Robin took a deep breath before stepping through the door.<p>

Regina was sitting behind an ornate dressing table, her almost full plate either suggesting lack of enthusiasm about beans or the overall situation. There was something in her eyes he hadn't seen there in ages, a sparkle he'd missed. It was also the first time in months that she was looking back at him directly like this, not averting her eyes the moment hers and his locked for what she felt was too long.

Robin gave himself a mental shake. He needed to focus. This was hard and tricky and he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if it turned nasty. If his suspicion was right, he should have told her ages ago. If it was wrong, he should tell no one of this - but tomorrow it wouldn't make a difference anyway because no one would remember. Despite this, the idea of her last sentiment for him being anger or worse caused him heartache.

Robin glanced at the pile of books scattered everywhere: the table, the bed, the armchair. "Last minute research?"

"Yes." It sounded better than idle despair anyway. She had been turning pages, even though he suspected it was more out of stubbornness than any real hope.

"May I?"

Her gesture said 'go on' where her lips remained sealed, so he pulled a puff to join her at the table covered in bottles, vials, and scrolls of parchment.

Then, focus or not, anticipation or not, he found himself simply staring at her, drinking in her face after such a long time: her shiny raven hair with not a strand out of place even at a time like this, her eyes bearing his look with a strange mix of hunger and foreboding, her features somewhat strained but no less captivating.

She drew a sharp breath and let it out slowly.

"Is this about…?" Her voice trailed off and a she tilted her head.

Of course she had no idea what this was about.

"The thing I was going to speak about at the council, the one I said I needed to talk to you about later, and what the Mirror told us." It all came back to what he'd been suspecting might be, but had only really started taking a real shape once the magic mirror answered his one burning question.

Regina eyed him with unmasked curiosity.

Then she looked out of the window with pursed lips. He waited because something about her countenance suggested a burning issue waiting to be spoken, yet a reluctance to do so. When she did finally speak, she did so without looking at him.

"All those obstacles she threw in our way - the ones relating to my past?"

Robin remembered all too well the horrors they'd encountered on their quest and how upsetting they'd proven to her. Waiting for confirmation, she glanced at him and he nodded.

"That's how she knew. From Rumple, and from the Mirror."

It made sense now, of course. The Witch must have gained control of Regina's enchanted mirror along with the Dark Palace, and milked it for information much like she had obviously done with the Dark One. Robin's heart went out to Regina. Whatever those re-enactments had been about exactly, he wished she hadn't had to endure the torture. She didn't know it, but there were bits in his past that haunted him, and just the idea of someone dragging them out into light to manipulate him was as revolting as it was mortifying. If only at least the wretched Mirror had held its tongue.

The Mirror. Right. He needed to talk about that.

"Regina," he wrung his hands, "I asked about the slippers for a reason.'

She turned back to him at the words, her body relaxing visibly at the change of topic. "Yes, I was wondering about that."

"I was entrusted with stealing such a pair once." There. It was out. Finally.

Regina arched an eyebrow. "From this Witch? By whom?"

"Not from the Witch, no." An image resurfaced in his mind, sharp and clear despite the time elapsed: a man, dandy and fairly well-dressed with a hat that rendered him conspicuous amongst many. "From a man referred to as a world-hopper."

"Jefferson?" A flicker of recognition turned her surprise into a frown. Regina's face gained a far-away look.

Did she know this peddler? It seemed so. Maybe he shouldn't really be surprised, what with Regina's knowledge of magic.

"I- I've heard them referenced." The memory seemed jarring for some reason, and Regina fiddled with the silver spoon. "When I was Rumple's apprentice." Rumplestiltskin again. No wonder Regina was tense once more. "Jefferson said he couldn't get them because they'd been removed to another realm."

"I don't know what happened to them after I stole them. But the commission was extraordinary." Even the fact that he'd worked on commission was extraordinary. Her look was challenging him to elaborate, so he tried to explain. "It wasn't the kind of job I'd usually have taken. For one, it involved a magical item - I don't dabble in magic if I can help it." He hoped to heavens he'd managed for it not to come across as injuring or judgemental. "For another thing, it didn't serve the poor." In all honesty, he hadn't even known whom it would serve - he still didn't.

Regina pinned him with a look of increased curiosity.

"Why did you take it?"

"Because of this." Robin pulled out a sheet of yellowed parchment from a hidden pocket in his boot. It had been there for years, but he'd been taking good care of it, and it was barely frayed from the multiple rereadings he'd done through the years. "This was my payment, as well as my hiring letter. I think you'll understand when you read it."

A slight quiver of his otherwise always so steady fingers betrayed his rising anxiety, and Regina reached for the parchment with a wary look. Robin wished he could just wipe it away - he hated to be the one causing it, even if he was only the bearer of the news rather than the cause.

Regina unfolded the letter and began to read, and by the minute changes in her face, the look in her widening eyes, he could follow her progress almost to the word.

_You whom they call the Prince of Thieves, to you I entrust a delicate task of crucial importance._

_A powerful sorceress is rising to one day become a threat to us all. The green-eyed monster shall transcend the boundaries of magic to swallow lives as if they'd never existed. The sorceress can be vanquished, but if by the day of her most horrid deed no one should succeed, a failsafe must be provided._

_You, Prince of Thieves, must obtain for me her own pair of slippers imbued with the magic to travel between realms. Heed my call now, for the Dark One has already set his sights on them. Find the man known as the world-hopper and remove the slippers. Leave them in the trunk of an ancient, magical tree you've passed many times in the heart of the forest. My enchantment shall lend them what power is needed, and they shall be moved to a place from which only the sorceress' own blood can retrieve them when the time comes._

_Dark and light she shall be, hard and soft, the bearer of a heart most resilient._

_Tarry not, Prince of Thieves, for time is of the essence._

_G._

Regina exhaled softly as her finger rested upon the ornate letter G. It was a moment before she raised her head from the yellowed parchment, and Robin scrutinised her face. It was hard to tell what was going on inside her. The contents of the letter were disturbing beyond doubt, but she liked to keep a composed expression when she was upset. So Robin bore into her eyes, for they were where Regina's emotional turmoil so often reflected.

Regina seemed to understand what he was doing though, and collected herself within seconds, gesturing at the letter. "And this…made you do it? Steal the slippers?"

Her lips were pursed, though whether it was in mockery, suspicion, or annoyance, he wasn't sure. Either way, all of those sentiments were ones he'd experienced when he'd first read the ominous words.

"It sounded crazy. I thought it was a trick at first, but the letter…" Robin paused as the memory came back to him, so vivid he heard the whispered words echo off the walls. "It started reading itself."

"What?"

"I heard a whisper. The letter was reading itself, every day." For three nights Robin hadn't been able to sleep a wink, while everyone around him was happily snoring away, never hearing the quiet, urgent voice that seemed to be reserved for him alone. "After the third day, I decided to do it. I left the slippers in the tree as instructed and stayed to spy from a bush."

"What happened?" Regina seemed intrigued despite herself.

The smell of rain and crushed elderberry flowers invaded his nostrils much like that night. "I saw a white shadow, a glowing haze of sorts, and then she disappeared - along with the slippers." Curiosity had spurred him towards the trunk that night to take a closer look. "There was another note in their place." Regina eyed him expectantly. Robin shrugged with an apologetic half-smile. "It just said _'Look hard, and doubt all you see_.'"

The note wasn't very informative, but it was important nonetheless - it was part of the reason he'd been so cautious about revealing this story. Would Regina understand? Whether she was mad with him or not shouldn't probably be his first concern in the face of the grave situation, but he couldn't help it - he cared a whole lot.

Regina scoffed. "Not very encouraging after already suspecting the author of the letter of fraud. I gather you haven't seen her or the slippers ever since?"

He shook his head. Then he turned to her with a question he'd been asking himself for all those years. "Do you think it's true?"

A desperate look settled in her eyes for a moment. "I don't know," she sighed. "But we have nothing else." Her look gained an intensity that almost threatened to burn holes in him, and a hardness crept into her features. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

There was hurt and there was disappointment in her voice, and Robin froze. He'd anticipated anger but not sadness, and he would have given everything now to stand against a raging wrath instead of the momentary look of dejection.

Her own reaction seemed to startle her, and she quickly rearranged her face into a stony expression. "We could have been looking for these slippers for months."

Robin nodded - this had been his biggest issue. Should he have stepped up months ago with this instead of just this morning? Could the Witch have been stopped then, and was it because of him the Dark Curse had even been enacted now?

The one thing he felt remotely good about was that he'd chosen to talk to Regina privately rather than bringing it up at the council first. This was personal for her, especially now that Zelena had been revealed to be her relative. Regina wasn't letting it on, sure, maybe not even to herself, but the harder she was working to keep her face expressionless, the larger he suspected the storm raging inside her had to be.

"I didn't know," he admitted finally. He'd been racked with doubts for years now, for much longer than Regina knew. "I had theories, but if I'd been wrong, it could have been a disaster. The last message sounded like a warning." Robin hesitated - what he was about to say next had been haunting him for these past few months, and he was both burning to confess and dreading it at the same time. "I really did make a mistake first." Regina's eyes narrowed in an unspoken question. "There was a time years ago when I thought the menace the letter was referring to was…" Robin hesitated. He hated himself for this now and he was ashamed, even though he was well aware his suspicion had made sense back then.

A bitter smile spread on Regina's face.

"Me," she finished for him.

"I was wrong, obviously. I'm sorry."

It was only after the Witch had started wreaking havoc in the Enchanted Forest that Robin began to suspect she could be the true target of his past theft. Even after he'd teamed up with Regina he'd wondered if he'd perhaps chosen the wrong sorceress to join forces with - but Roland's life had been at stake, and even if he had been right all along and the Evil Queen was the true threat, Roland's life was too precious for him to hazard with. His conscience had been torn between the greater good and his son, and he'd chosen Roland. He would always choose Roland. Thankfully, his selfish decision had eventually brought him to see the fault of his earlier suspicions. He'd chosen the right side, and he'd seen that fairly early on aftrwards. But he'd taken a long time to make sure the Witch was indeed the sorceress from the letter - too long a time, he now knew.

"I wish I'd told you sooner, Regina."

She looked at him closely and her features softened.

"Never mind that now."

Robin was supposed to feel relieved - she wasn't lashing out at him in a wild, destructive rage. She didn't even seem mad at him. This woman had been trying so hard to distance herself from the Evil Queen, even she was giving herself far too little credit for it - and so many others were quick to forget this at times. If only his wretched confession hadn't reminded her of all this. Instead of relief, his heart was overrunning with affection.

Robin reached out and brought his hand next to hers on the table. Their fingers were barely touching, yet his skin tingled. "Maybe there's still time to find them." Any moment now, she'd pull back, like she'd been doing ever since their arrival to the palace. "Before the Curse hits."

Regina's look rested on their joined fingers. For a good while, she didn't move at all, didn't seem to blink.

"No." At long last, she pulled her hand from his touch, brushing his fingers with hers on the way - slowly, agonisingly, but not without a certain sweetness that turned bitter as the contact ended. "If the letter tells the truth, the slippers can only be located before her final deed." She paused and took a deep breath. "It isn't time yet."

Robin's eyes wandered from the letter in her hand to her face. Was she talking about the letter only, or-?

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked out of the window. Her eyes gained a faraway look, as if in her mind she was transcending realms to some unknown place.

"We need to look for the slippers wherever the Curse sends us from here."

"But we won't remember any of this." Not remembering Regina filled Robin with an almost unbearable sense of loss. Forgetting her seemed impossible, and yet they both knew it was going to happen.

Regina looked him in the eyes and smiled that smile that only made sadness so much more daunting.

"Exactly."

* * *

><p><em>Here we go, then - the Dark Curse is on its way, and after next chapter, the story will be moving to Storybrooke. I'm quite curious as to how this slippers plot works for you so far, so if you feel like sharing your first impressions (or sentiments about anything else in this story as well), I'll be glad to hear from you. :)<em>


	19. A Time to Remember, a Time to Forget

_Finally an update after a little break! I'm sure the wait wasn't too terrible with all the Outlaw Queen and general Regina goodness we've been getting on the show - I'mquite overwhelmed by it all, so it was a bit hard to get back into my own story here. Anyway, Regina & co are now waiting for Zelena's Dark Curse to strike, but the question is how do they spend the last hours? I hope you enjoy this (parts of it I'm almost certain you will... ;))!  
><em>

* * *

><p>A pool of moonlight fell across Roland's face as he was lying sprawled in bed, his little fists thrown up either side of the pillow the way babies liked to sleep. A thin trickle of saliva issued from the corner of his slightly open mouth. Regina smiled: he looked so peaceful, almost blissful, possibly even having some sweet dream at this very moment. He had no idea something sinister was in the air, no worries to keep him awake at night. And this was just the way it should be.<p>

Today was quite possibly the last time they were seeing each other. How could she not have slipped into his bedroom to say a quiet goodbye - even though Roland knew nothing about it? Her throat tightened and Regina tried to swallow the small knot she felt rising there. They'd grown close, closer than she'd thought possible or even had intended to in the first place. Soon it would all be gone.

What did this remind her of?

No, this was nothing like losing Henry. Roland was nothing like Henry, despite all those times when he'd remind Regina of her son - but Henry was constantly on her mind and in her heart, so that didn't really mean anything anyway. She wouldn't even remember Roland at all. The unrelenting knot in her throat only grew.

A draught of breeze wafted through the window. Roland's leg sticking out from beneath the blanket wiggled a little, so Regina tucked the little sleeper in with utmost care, her touch as light as possible so as not to wake him. She hesitated, then leaned over him a pressed a careful kiss on his forehead.

Then she turned away and tiptoed out of the small chamber without looking back.

* * *

><p>Regina was prepared to spend the last night in the Enchanted Forest alone, restlessly thumbing through books she expected no remedy for the situation from, when there was a knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she chided herself for this immediately - he had no reason to be here, and she had no business wanting him here either.<p>

Snow had no reason to be here, either, yet here she was standing in the door.

Regina sat her down in the armchair she'd previously been occupying - it had a suitable backrest Snow would find a relief to her aching back.

"Roland's asleep, huh?"

"Robin put him to bed, yes." Sometimes - often - it would be Regina, but not tonight. Tonight, it could only be his father. Roland was Robin's son, not Regina's, so of course she hadn't assumed to be around him at this time. But she had just returned from his room after all - she hadn't been able to resist.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm betraying Henry." Where on earth had that come from? Strangely, she wasn't even uncomfortable. It didn't matter if Snow knew - she'd only remember Regina confiding in her for a few more hours. Perhaps that was where this intimacy had come from. Or perhaps there was more to it. Now they'd never find out.

Snow's lip quivered and she nodded slowly. "I know."

Regina inhaled sharply and pulled away from her. Did Snow actually believe that was really the case? That wasn't fair, Henry was constantly on Regina's mind, no matter how much time she spent with Roland. How could anyone believe otherwise?

But a closer look at Snow dispersed Regina's annoyance - Snow didn't look accusing, merely gloomy. Regina waited, unsure what to make of this.

Snow fiddled with the sleeve of her dress. "Imagine me and Emma. Me and our new baby."

Oh. So Snow had been feeling guilty about her coveted second chance all this time. Regina had never even entertained the notion, and now she wondered why - in a horrible way, it made sense. At the same time, it was all wrong. Snow needed to see that, too.

Regina leaned towards her, eliciting a sheepish look from Snow. It would have been so easy to use this vulnerable moment to hurt her, and hurt her deeply, but that impulse, that time, seemed so far away now.

"Emma would want you to be happy." It was strange to have caused the small smile slowly spreading across Snow's face. It was ... nice. Yet it carried a bitterness with it that Regina wrongly attributed to old times - until the next few words, unauthorised, betrayed its true source. "And this is your child, too."

Snow inclined her head and looked at Regina's hand, but she was too far to reach without Snow having to shift in the armchair, which was hard these days with her growing belly, so Regina tentatively moved closer.

"Well, Roland's just a child as well." Regina shuffled awkwardly - Snow had caught on better than she'd have expected. "He likes you. You're fine to like him. Where's the harm in that?" There was a brief pause before Snow spoke again. "Nothing could ever replace Henry. "

"No. Nothing ever will."

"That doesn't mean you should shut the world out."

Snow laid a hand over Regina's, and Regina didn't budge.

The moment dragged on in silence, and Regina couldn't have said how she felt. Everything she'd been trying hard to avoid for months was coming crashing down on her: the never-ceasing agony of Henry's loss, the self-inflicted torture surrounding Robin, the hopeful beginnings of repaired relationships crushed by this dreadful, elusive foe who always seemed to come up having the upper hand.

A lone treacherous tear rolled off her cheek, and Regina took a deep breath. She slipped her hand from Snow's reach and stared at the wall in an attempt to regain control.

Snow broke the long silence at last.

"So Glinda the Good Witch entrusted Robin Hood with stealing the Wicked Witch of the West's slippers from the Mad Hatter to give to the Evil Queen so that when the time came, she could become the Saviour."

Regina glared at Snow, but the princess was actually smiling. The absurd but accurate recap of the situation wasn't a jibe. Snow was merely enjoying the irony, and come to think about it, so did Regina. Who knew they'd sit like this some day, on the brink of having their memories wiped, and joke about it? Snow had friends to spend these last hours with, and her true love, and here she was spending some of that precious time with the woman she used to be sworn enemies with. Things were changing, and perhaps the two of them could be...well, closer in time. But now this Curse was coming to take it all away: the new, healing Regina as well as Snow, Tink, Roland and Robin.

"You should be with David." It wasn't a dismissal, just an honest sentiment. Snow had no way of knowing if the Curse would separate them like Regina's had, and surely they wanted to be together while they could.

"I will be." Snow shifted with a small sigh, massaging her lower back. Her look travelled from Regina to the books scattered on all surfaces of the room, perused a dozen times already, each time without a favourable result. Regina's feeble attempt at filling the remaining time with some activity couldn't be clearer, and she felt unbearably exposed all of the sudden. "How about you?"

Regina didn't answer for a long time - largely because she had no answer, or so she told herself. But that was a lie, and what was the point of it so close to the end of this whole long episode?

"We're all going to be someplace else tomorrow. Without memory of this time here."

"Yes," was all Snow said, thoughtful, waiting for Regina to go on.

"What if I told him now?" Her stomach gave a jolt at the very thought.

"Told who, what?"

"You know." They'd never spoken about it, at least not directly, and Robin was too much of a gentleman to have talked left and right about what had happened between them. But Tinkerbell had only needed a few short minutes to notice something, and Snow had been giving them curious looks for months.

Indeed, Snow didn't press her for a clearer answer. "So you're thinking of telling him because tomorrow he won't remember and you can go back to your shell?"

"I guess that pretty much says it. You think I'm pathetic. I guess I am."

"Go for it."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, go for it. You have one day, or what still remains of it. It's more than nothing. It's a few hours of happiness. Take it."

"How can you be so sure?" The one time he'd been expressed some feelings for her she'd refused him. She'd been mean to him, then for months she'd made a point of avoiding him. Regina couldn't possibly expect him to welcome her with open arms now, it wouldn't be fair to and it wouldn't be reasonable to expect he would. "Maybe he'll want none of it."

"Then it'll only hurt tomorrow."

How could Snow have read her so well? Torn between fear of love and loss and fear of rejection, Regina's only consolation was this Curse - either way, all memories would be wiped out before too long.

"Regina, that's not gonna happen anyway."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I do. So should you."

* * *

><p>She should just tell him, but she couldn't. The idea of being turned down after all the effort made her shrink back in fright, but now was not the time to run away and hide. One swift motion would do away with a plaster. It would only hurt for a moment. Still, she couldn't just up and say it. So she lingered on the edge of the clearing and watched him working on an arrow shaft until a shift of shadow attracted Robin's attention, and he spotted her there.<p>

"Regina," he rose in surprise. "Roland?"

"He's fine." Of course he'd think this was about Roland - she'd never sought out his company for months now unless it was for Roland. "He's fast asleep."

"The letter, then?"

Regina shook her head.

"Well, how can I help you?" he blurted as she stepped onto the clearing and towards him, and seemed abashed just as he did. "Will you sit down?" he indicated a log conveniently placed by the fire.

"I'd rather stand. What's wrong with your hand?"

A trickle of blood was painting his thumb red. He must have cut himself when she appeared so suddenly and hadn't even noticed. Could that be a good sign?

"It's nothing, just me being clumsy with the knife."

"You should clean that up. Do you want me to do it for you?" What the hell was she doing? Waiting for a miracle, that's what, something to speak for her while she was unable to voice her feelings.

"It's fine." Of course he'd say that, he hated magic, especially if there were non-magical means at hand. This wasn't going well.

"Let me." Heavens, how desperate could she get? "I won't use magic, I promise."

She retrieved a flask from his bag and washed his finger, never looking anywhere but his hand - but the tattoo was there, peeking out from under his sleeve, and it was more than enough to unnerve her further.

When she finished - it was indeed just a small cut - and finally looked up at him only to find gazing at her, her heart began to beat in overdrive. The intensity of his look felt like fire in her blood. She drank in his eyes, hoping to tell him with hers what words were failing to say. Robin's gaze slipped to her lips, and a chill ran down her spine. Heavens, he wasn't even touching her yet, what was wrong with her? Then he shuffled closer, and so did she, and she grabbed the fabric of his tunic, pulling him to her. She felt his hot breath on her lips and her eyes fluttered closed. They were close, so close...almost there...

Robin broke away, and her eyes flew open.

Suddenly there was a whole step between them, and he was looking at her with befuddlement and exasperation. She felt sorry for him, sorry for herself. She'd been wrong to come, wrong to think they had a shot, wrong to think he could want this the way she finally understood she wanted it.

"I shouldn't have come," she blurted, fighting back tears.

"Regina...I'm sorry." Robin ran a hand through his hair. "You've established long ago that there can be nothing between us. I can't pretend to feel the same way but I never intended to overstep. I'm sorry. I think I'll just...I'd better go."

"No, wait! What did you just say?" Could it be? Was this the reason he'd backed away? Because he believed she wanted none of this? It wasn't fair. She'd told him, very clearly, that she had no interest in him, and now she was fishing for a moment to let him slip only to make her own job easier. "Robin, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

Either he looked hopeful or she was just imagining things. _Damn, Regina, get a grip! Just get those words out already!_

"When I said I had no feelings for you - I lied. I did - I do still have feelings for you."

There. She did it. Now what?

As she stood there, watching him, waiting for a reaction that seemed to be taking an eternity, and the silence dragged on, a darkness seemed to settle over her. Regina closed her eyes, fighting the sting and burn, and began to wish she were back in her chamber, or that the Curse would come and wipe them away right then.

"Why? Why did you lie?" His quiet voice startled her somewhat because it was coming from so much closer than he'd been standing just a moment ago.

It was easier to admit to with her eyes closed, but still an ordeal. "Because I was afraid."

Regina froze as his fingers, with the skin hardened from countless arrows shot but a touch so gentle and so warm, brushed her cheek. He stroked her lightly, and she needed to see him now, to read answers on his face.

He was inches from her, and he continued caressing her face. "But I've no intention of hurting you."

"That's...it's not so simple." Tears burnt in her eyes because he said it and he meant it and she believed it. The problem was, loss came in so many different shapes and forms, and there was no way of preparing for it.

"Why are you telling me now? What does this mean?"

Regina smiled sadly. It was pathetic, the way she still wasn't able to take a risk without a sizable crutch to fall back on. "There's no tomorrow...if that makes sense. At least none that either of us will remember."

"I'd feel the same way tomorrow, Regina."

"Wh- what way is that?"

This time she didn't close her eyes, but watched with bated breath as he brought his face to hers and rubbed their noses together. Regina clasped his tunic again, praying the tight grip would be enough to keep her from trembling, but it proved too little when in the very next moment his hand circled her waist and pulled her to him. The light brush of his lips on hers sent more shivers down her spine, and her hand ran up his back to the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened.

The night surrounding them seemed to disappeared as the only sounds remained the rushing of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart, the taste and smell of him drowning out everything else. Every fibre in her body seemed to be coming to life after ages of lying dormant. This was good. This was right. She was where she was supposed to be, where she wanted to be, and where she'd finally chosen to be.

And he seemed to want this every inch as much as she did.

"You're not too shabby a kisser," she smirked when they broke apart for some air at long last with their foreheads touching.

"I aim to please." Dimples appeared in his cheeks as he chucked, those wretched dimples that had vexed her for so long, those precious dimples she'd constantly felt an urge to caress. Nothing was stopping her now. Robin smiled as she ran her thumbs over his dimpled cheeks while he played with a strand of her hair that had somehow come loose. "You're quite good at it yourself."

"I thought you'd be...resentful," she pulled away slightly, though unwillingly. "Mad, even. Because I only chose to tell you now...because I know it won't last."

Robin shook his head. He really looked neither of those things, and it seemed too good to be true. All of this did.

"There's no time for grudges anymore. I'm just glad you're here now."

"So you still want me? Even after-?"

"I want you."

Warmth spread inside her as he placed a soft kiss on her lips: if she had any doubts about the sincerity of his words, his actions erased them all.

"We have one night," she sighed as he gently rubbed her back and her hands in turn began to wander across his broad, muscled chest even the layers of fabric couldn't quite disguise. "A night we'll forget."

"One night." Robin ran a hand down her side and let it rest on her hip. "We'd better make it a night to remember."

* * *

><p><em>I'm so glad you came<em>. The words crowded his mouth, wanting out, but he'd already told her more than once. So instead, Robin just raised their intertwined hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips, one by one. A contented smile played on Regina's lips. She sighed and snuggled closer to him, her hair tickling his arms and chest, caressing his skin with a silky touch. Robin shivered slightly at the pleasant sensation and ran his fingers through the rich raven locks unrestrained by pins. _Mesmerising_.

"You seem to like it better this way," Regina chuckled at him twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

"I like it every way." Robin swallowed. "I like _you_."

It was true and not quite - he did more than just like her.

Her sharp tongue and biting remarks, her coldness, and finally the deliberate avoidance should have been enough to turn him off - but they hadn't. He'd waited patiently for the tide to turn, hoping time was his friend. He'd waited with growing apprehension, wondering if perhaps the wait was hopeless, if perhaps she'd never reciprocated and never would. He'd waited for his own feelings to fade away.

Instead, the less he saw of her, the more she was on his mind. And there'd be a renewed longing whenever he laid eyes on her, a renewed twinge of pain whenever she looked through him, renewed doubts whenever their eyes locked in a lingering look she'd then break with desperate haste.

Through the months, he'd seen countless sides of this complex, fascinating woman. He'd seen her regal and pompous, and he'd seen her hiding behind a large laundry basket or crammed in a wardrobe while Roland turned the room upside down in search of her. He'd seen her fiery and he'd seen her cool, and sometimes a strange mixture of both at the same time. He'd seen her in a simmering rage and he'd seen her - on several precious occasions - relaxed and warm, almost happy. And the more he saw, the more intrigued he was, and the more he wished to see.

So yes, he liked her, or more, and if there had been any doubt in her heart before, he needed it go away now, therefore there was no regret of the confession.

But his words were met with silence. Regina's fingernails ceased to trace patterns across his shoulder. Her hand closed over his wrist and she seemed to hold her breath for a moment before she released her grip and twisted a little in his embrace to look at him. Bearing her intense gaze was bliss after being denied the pleasure for such a long time. Her cheek was damp when he reached to caress her. Some ghost - perhaps of a question, doubt or fear - in her eyes melted into softness at his touch.

"I like you, too."

Robin couldn't help it, and he wouldn't have wanted to: an absurdly wide grin settled on his face and refused to leave. Regina responded with a small, throaty laugh followed by a mischievous look that made the air around them sizzle. For a moment they fought a silly little game of who would outstare whom, but soon passion took over, and the small contest came to an end with a prize for them both: an endless, dauntingly slow, searing kiss.

Heavens, what a woman! She teased him by tracing a finger along his lips even as they tried to catch their breaths. The scent of apple and cinnamon encompassed him when he buried his face in her hair; the same smell that lingered on his skin as it touched her smooth and supple one. Everything about her was deliciously intoxicating.

It had taken so long for them to get this far - and then it had all happened so unexpectedly. And now the blasted Curse was going to take it all away. Then again, if it weren't for the Curse, Regina might not have acted on her feelings at all, or not any time soon. Yet losing her altogether was too high a price to pay, even for a moment like this, when she rested her chin on his heaving chest, her eyes never leaving his - as if she wanted to make up for all the lost time, all the looks missed or avoided.

Some of his thoughts must have reflected on his face. Regina reached to stroke his cheek, a sadness settling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Treating you like I did." Robin placed a kiss to her palm, ready with a joke, but Regina remained wistful. "And for ruining thi- ruining everything."

"It's not your fault."

"It is, eventually. I cast the original Curse. None of this would be happening if I hadn't. Worse - I failed to stop this one."

"Regina…" He didn't want to argue the point. He found he simply couldn't bear listening to her talking like that, not now of all times. But not talking about it would not make her remorse any less. "You don't know that. If I'd told you sooner about the slippers - it might not have come to this. I should have listened to my gut. It's been telling me for so long to do it, to trust you...the note had warned about looking with my eyes...not feeling with my heart."

Regina shot him a quick glance, then stared into the dark thickset Robin would bet she wasn't really seeing.

"I knew this was going to happen." Her voice was thick with emotion, bitter and pained.

Placing a finger under her chin, Robin coaxed her into looking at him. "Knew what was going to happen?"

"Every time I- I get attached, I... It doesn't end well."

"It's not as if we're losing each other."

"That's exactly what's happening."

"Not quite. We're losing the memories. But we'll both be transported to this strange land. I believe this - us - isn't...that it's..." Robin searched for the words, but there seemed to be none for the sentiment he was trying to express. "...that it's not just some random thing - a mere coincidence." He wasn't sure he even believed in fate, but if fate or destiny did exist, this is what they must feel like.

Regina pulled back slightly, swallowing and searching his face. Then her eyes slipped to his forearm, and she hesitated before she laid her hand over his wrist, covering his tattoo.

"Maybe the Curse will take our memories, but this thing we feel..." Would it be entirely lost, or would some of it linger, finding its way into this new realm? Robin ran a finger along her jawline, and she leaned into his touch with her eyes closed.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Regina brushed it away angrily and pushed his hand aside.

"See, this is what happens when you allow yourself to care! You just...you just end up hurting."

"It won't hurt tomorrow." Regina gave a lopsided smile: her one consolation had turned against her now. "We'll cross paths," Robin said - was it really him speaking? He'd never planned to say such a thing, yet he felt it was true. "And we'll feel the pull like we did now."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I can't imagine it any other way."

* * *

><p>An emerald green cloud emerged behind the treetops, rolling towards them amid thunder and lightning.<p>

The hall, previously filled with a quiet hum of words exchanged between friends and loved ones, fell silent as heads turned to gaze out of the windows at the approaching Curse. Amid the Merry Men, Alan-a-Dale struck the strings of his lute and began singing in a booming voice, trying to outcry the roaring magical menace. Next to Belle and Ruby, Granny adjusted the bolt in her crossbow. Regina smiled - if she could take the curse on with a well-aimed shot, Granny Lucas surely would. Aurora sat between Mulan and Philip, her hand on her belly and a frightened look in her eyes, and Regina remembered, not without sympathy, that for them, this would be the first time experiencing the effects of the Dark Curse.

Not so for the Charmings, who sat in an embrace, hands joined on Snow's belly. Snow even managed a small smile in Regina's direction, which Regina returned, and an approving nod in Robin's, at which Regina felt her cheeks burn. Regina turned away in time to see Tinkerbell down a tankard of ale in time with a raucous peal of thunder. She winked at Regina from above the rim with a significant look at Robin. Even at such a moment, the fairy couldn't let it go, but Regina couldn't be sour with her for the lack of discretion - especially not now. Her friend was just happy for her.

The racket intensified, lighting criss-crossing on the backdrop of dark cloud, thunder booming with increased frequency and volume. Roland scrambled onto Regina's lap, stretching his legs across his father's and grabbing his hand. Robin immediately moved closer, his hand slipping from Regina's and his arm coming up around both Roland and her.

Wrapped in his arms, she remembered the way Robin had held her at night, how natural it had felt and how uplifting, and the sounds of the Dark Curse simply tuned out momentarily. She remembered the way he kept toying with her hair with an almost obsessive fascination. She remembered how gentle his touch had been - and, oh yes, how passionate. Regina still felt it clinging to her skin: an embrace so tight it was hard to tell where she ended and he began.

Last night, she'd taken a chance and it was well worth it, and now she wished she'd taken it a long time ago.

Robin didn't know about the tattoo or the pixie dust or the soul mates thing, yet he'd told her their feelings were somehow meant to be. Was this really possible? Perhaps Robin was right, perhaps they'd feel it again, and perhaps this time she wouldn't need an apocalyptic threat hanging over her to act on her feelings.

As the Curse reached the palace walls and smashed the windowpanes, Regina was only aware of holding on to Roland and Robin, breathing in the boyish smell of the little one snuggled into her and the now familiar woodsy smell of the man holding them both close. She felt rather than heard Robin's whispered words against her ear:

"Until we meet again."

* * *

><p><em>Was this way too saccharine at times? Either way, I thought we could do with a little sweetness after such a long build-up - I hope you liked!<em>

_In case you were wondering, the scene where Regina decides to go after Robin spurred by the imminent arrival of the Curse (and the good kisser bit as well) was outlined before a similar thing happened on the show in SB. It's always fun to have things play out like this. ;)_

_The next part is taking us back to Storybrooke - oh my, is this story getting long! Thanks for sticking around with me, and thanks for all the love in feedback/reviews!_


	20. Part II: The Blessing in the Curse

_Yay, I'm finally back! That season finale had been devastating to my feels, but I've now recovered enough to start writing again. First of all, thank you all for the feedback on the previous chapter. This chapter stays in line with canon and is heavy on Regina & Henry feels - but worry not, there is some OQ in here, too, and plenty more on the way next. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Regina forced her laboured breathing to settle. There was only one thought on her mind: <em>Henry is gone<em>.

She kept her eyes tightly shut as she breathed in the salty air. The longer she kept them shut, the longer she wouldn't have to look at the wretched Enchanted Forest. The exertion of the spell she'd just performed made her chest heave - or perhaps it was the weight of the terrible price she'd had to pay.

_Henry is gone. I will never see him again._

A gust of wind ruffled her hair. The road creaked under her feet as she staggered slightly under the emotional burden. A seagull shrieked.

Since when did the birdlife of the Enchanted Forest include seagulls? And since when did the forest smell of sea? This made no sense - she'd performed the spell right, it must have worked. She needed to think straight, to make sure her suspicion wasn't mere wishful thinking. Regina took one blind, tentative step, probing. Her heart skipped a beat.

The Enchanted Forest wasn't paved with asphalt.

Regina didn't need to open her eyes to know where they were. She didn't need Snow White gasping and breathing, in a voice filled with wonder to match Regina's own, the inconceivable words Regina had never hoped to hear again:

"We're...back?"

* * *

><p>"We should never have trusted her in the first place," Leroy bellowed. "She screwed us all over again!"<p>

"But where's Emma and Henry?" Charming interjected.

"Ask her! Ask the Queen!"

Regina was barely listening.

They were back. Here they all were, standing at the infamous town line of Storybrooke - her town, the town she'd created many years ago and then dismantled again. Storybrooke should be no more, and yet here they all were.

Maybe Emma and Henry had somehow been returned as well?

But how was this possible? Had something gone wrong? _No_, _that's impossible_. Regina shook her head. Self-assurance wouldn't do now, she needed more than just her pride speaking. Pressing her fingertips against her temples, she forced herself to remember, painstakingly recalling every little detail of the moment she'd been putting the magic to work. There was no doubt now: she had indeed done everything right.

"The magic worked." She remained with her back to them and hadn't raised her voice, yet everyone seemed to hear her perfectly well. "It must have returned us to the Enchanted Forest."

"Oh, really?" Leroy's voice dripped sarcasm - and open animosity. "Then how the hell are we still here?"

"We're not _still_ here. We're _back_."

Chaos erupted behind her as everyone began shouting questions, spewing accusations and spinning wild theories, while David urged them, without success, to speak one by one. How very like him it was to seize every chance to try and form councils and make speeches the minute he could.

Regina drowned out all the infuriating noise. As usual, they were letting panic and prejudice cloud their judgement and wasting precious time. Not only were they wrongly accusing her - that was the least of it. They were asking all the wrong questions, too. As absurd and inconceivable as the idea seemed, there was only one way they could have gotten back. The real question was, who'd done it and why? And where did this leave Henry and Emma?

The jumble of voices was finally hushed somewhat when Snow spoke.

"Regina's right. We must have been gone for a while."

"How do you-?" The words died on David's lips, and the shocked silence that followed, only interrupted by Leroy's snort of disbelief, made Regina finally turn around and face the lot of them.

They all seemed to be staring at Snow, but David was blocking Regina's view. He squinted at her with narrowed eyes, suspicion brewing, then stepped aside.

Snow was touching her highly pregnant belly - rather sheepishly, as if to check if it was really what it was pretending to be. Well, this was unexpected. There it was: proof that time had indeed passed between the day they'd left Storybrooke and the moment they returned. It must have been eight months at least, by the looks of it.

"Regina, what magic is this?"

Regina snorted at David's insinuation. "I'd hardly call this magic - at least not the kind I can perform." Surely even he had to realise he was the one responsible for this?

"I don't remember anything," Charming shrugged with such bafflement that her smirk turned into a sympathetic smile.

"I assume the last thing all of us remember is standing on the town line before I sent us back to our land."

"Aha!" Leroy leered. The poor idiot probably thought he'd just caught her in a lie. "And just how would you know that, unless you're the one who did this?"

"Because I actually use my brain?"

"So...what happened?"David stepped in again before Leroy could make another dim-witted comeback. "Have we- I mean, could we have moved forward in time?"

"No, that's impossible. Magic cannot do that - no one's ever figured out how."

Regina turned her back on them and strolled back towards the town line, stopping just a few inches short of it. They weren't going to like what she had to say - neither did she, for that matter. Searching for alternatives for the umpteenth time, Regina's eyes rested on the familiar slanted writing of the sign overhead: _Leaving Storybrooke_.

But they weren't leaving. They had just returned.

"I performed the spell right." Her voice rang with confidence. Like it or not, it was the only thing that made sense. "We must have been taken back to the Enchanted Forest, and Storybrooke must have been wiped out. There were no portals left for us to take. There's only one way we could have gotten back here and have no memories of the past year or so."

No one spoke. Someone gave a nervous little cough. Perhaps they all hoped not speaking the words would make them less true.

"The Dark Curse."

At least Snow was smart enough to understand. Regina half-expected to be contradicted again. Instead, a collective gasp was all the response the news got.

"The question is, who cast it, and why?" Regina's stomach sank and she couldn't stop herself, even though part of her hated herself for caring what they thought. "Before anyone bothers blaming me again, I had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, right," Leroy growled. The man never disappointed, that was for sure.

Sensing an impending crisis, David made a step forward.

"Has anyone else noticed Neal's missing?"Belle asked with a hint of reproach.

A murmur rose as all eyes turned to Belle, then scanned the group of them. Sure enough, Neal was indeed missing.

There seemed to be more to this lost year than any of them would like for ti to be. There was a reason they didn't remember this year in particular. Regina needed to be alone to think, to give free reign to all the emotion washing over her without worrying about keeping up appearances. Then she - they, she thought with mixed feelings, because that's what they'd become somewhere along the way - could figure out what to do next.

The possibilities were endless, and Regina felt life pumping in her veins again - not fully reawakened yet, because let's not get carried away, but it was something, so very much unlike the despair descended on her as Emma's yellow bug had rolled away in a cloud of purple smoke.

If Storybrooke existed, doors may have been reopened that Regina'd thought were closed forever.

* * *

><p><em>He<em> was there. Henry, her son Henry, whom she'd never thought she'd see again.

Regina's whole world began to spin, revolving, as always, around the one person that had been the centre of her universe for over twelve years now. The spoon clattered against the saucer, the sound barely reaching her from far, far away, barely registering as her head swam and her chest threatened to burst with emotion, with the strain of keeping it all in.

He was right there, just a few steps away, sitting with Emma and the two idiots as if they'd never left.

When their eyes met, Regina's heart burst into song. Henry's blank look slowly changed, and the sweeping music inside her died instantly. It wasn't recognition she saw there, it wasn't joy and it certainly wasn't love. He was disturbed - disturbed by a stranger gawking at him with her eyes wide open and her jaw dropped, staring, staring, slowly dying inside again - though that was something he couldn't know.

The stammered apology somehow managed to get our past giant lump in her throat, and Henry nodded - apology accepted - and turned back to Snow and David.

He'd looked right through her.

Regina wouldn't cry. Not in front of him, at least. But later, in a minute, out of everyone's sight but especially her little prince's, she'd break down in tears, wishing her bleeding heart gone.

* * *

><p>So he'd been happy.<p>

Sitting on the front seat of the yellow bug with Emma next to her, Regina let the knowledge sink in.

Her eyes brimmed with hot tears just as her heart rejoiced and ached at the same time. Her son had been happy in New York, happy in this new life Regina had created for him and Emma. A good life. Happy memories. For Emma, they had been brand new. For Henry, they were all real. They were their memories, ones Regina and Henry had made together in the eleven years they'd been a family. So yes, for Henry the memories were real, with one small change to them: Emma instead of Regina.

The memories Regina had of Henry and herself were the most precious thing to her. Giving them over like that had been a struggle, yet at the same time a reward in itself. It had helped her remember that their life had been good, that they had been happy before things had started going so terribly wrong, before the storybook and Dr Hopper and Emma Swan.

A tear rolled down her cheek. With Henry, she'd made mistakes, yes, ones she would likely never forgive herself, but she'd also finally got something right. Regina might not be a part of Henry's memories now, but he'd been happy.

It had all been worth it.

* * *

><p>It hurt to have him near and yet so far away. Emma's suggestion was tempting. To see Henry, to talk to him was all Regina wanted, and yet…<p>

What if she couldn't handle it? What if she gave herself away? What if her strange behaviour completely freaked him out?

Emma was so insistent, and Regina so afraid. Why? Perhaps that was how profoundly grateful Emma was for those memories, the life she had lately been living. Perhaps offering a little bit of that to Regina wasn't so hard after all of that. Except that wasn't true. When Emma had first come to Stroybrooke, Regina hadn't even considered sharing Henry with her - and she'd lost him because of the frantic fight she'd launched herself into. Perhaps Emma didn't want to make the same mistake. But no, that wasn't all there was: Regina saw it in her eyes, the sympathetic look Emma was giving her even now.

There was a light on in Snow's apartment, and shadows moving behind the curtains - one of them would be him.

And Regina finally caved.

Next thing she knew, she was standing in the living room, desperately trying ot be still while she had no idea what to do with her hands or the weakness in her knees or the hammering of her heart. Regina drank him in as he stood to meet her. It had been so long and he'd grown so much - they were almost the same height now. As her heart began to pound all the more, her brain seemed to slow down to a crawl, and talking to him was almost impossible but she had to try, she had to keep it normal if she wanted to see him again. As Madam Mayor, not Mom. But anything was better than nothing.

So she pretended that was all there was, Madam Mayor and Henry Mills. _Swan, it was Henry Swan now_. Her heart wasn't pounding anymore, maybe the very realisation drowned all life out of it. To hug him was second nature to her, it was an impulse she had been fighting and now had almost given in to it. In the last moment, she pulled back at the sight of his offered hand, turning the pain curl of her lips into a smile as best she could. No, the glove at least needed to go. They shook hands, and yes, she could do this, she could pretend she was only meeting him for the first time, a stranger to her just like she was to him. She could do this if this all there could be.

Henry looked moderately pleased and a little flattered by the idea of the Mayor herself giving him a tour of the town, so it was all worth it. Regina would show him around Storybrooke, the place he'd lived at for over a decade. She would smile the whole time and be happy to finally get to be with him. And not a tear would fall - except later when she was alone at the empty white mansion he didn't know had been his home, and which had ceased to be hers now that her son no longer lived there.

* * *

><p>He was there. He really was there, right here next to her. If she were only to put her arm out, she could reach him, hug him, walk arm in arm with him.<p>

But she couldn't, because he didn't remember. Because to him, she was Mayor Mills. Nothing more.

Regina fought back hard against the descending darkness brought about by the realisation. This was their afternoon, she was finally getting to spend some time with Henry, and whether he remembered her or not, this meant the world to her. Not so long ago, she'd been facing the prospect of never ever seeing him again. Now here they were. She wasn't letting anything stand in the way of her enjoying this.

She kept throwing him sideway glances as often as she dared without running the risk of him noticing. Henry was enjoying the ice cream like he always would. He'd picked chocolate chip, like he'd almost always do. Regina smiled at the chocolate smudge in the corner of his mouth. He might have grown a lot in the past year and have fake memories and new, real ones she wasn't part of, but some things hadn't changed. He was still her little prince.

Showing him places he'd known all his life had proven much more difficult than she would have imagined.

They'd been off to a wonderful start when Henry stopped in front of the local newsagent's to look at a new edition of his favourite comic book. Regina casually - although her heart picked up and her palms were suddenly sweaty - dropped a piece of comic book trivia she'd learnt from Henry a while back. Henry raised an eyebrow at her in what she knew to be a look of surprise. He was impressed with this Mayor he'd been getting so much kind attention from. Well, there was no way for him to know she'd been buying and reading all the new editions in his bedroom, then stashing the comic books on his bookshelf, hoping against hope he'd find them there one day - with his memories intact.

The town hall had fascinated him, or rather the idea of her managing the town from some out of bounds, enigmatic office. Regina looked at him strolling beside her. He'd been so sheepish about asking if he could see her office, he'd been almost sure it would be taking it one step too far, a favour the Mayor would have no interest in granting him. But of course she had. Henry'd looked over her lavishly decorated office with a small frown, and Regina's heart had skipped more than a single beat. Could he be remembering? Did he know he'd spent hours in there with her as a child, sitting at her desk next to her on a pillow-staked chair, covering white sheets of paper with colourful doodles while she sorted out her paperwork with many a glance at the precious boy beside her. Was he remembering he'd offered her help with the budget once and she accepted, letting him scribble all over a report that had been almost ready because it made him oh so happy, and then she'd had to stay up all night to put it together all over again? Henry's look was awestruck…but not enough. He didn't remember. Regina did, though, and she turned away to straighten her face, to dab at the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes and on her eyelashes.

They were still deep in discussion about the nature of her mayoral duties when they passed the school. Henry threw it a glance of superficial interest and turned back to her, keeping the questions coming. He hadn't been so chatty on his first day here. He'd been anxious as they'd walked up the pathway from the car - even though he wouldn't admit it, she'd known by the way he'd been clutching her hand. Regina'd leaned to him and pulled Henry's favourite book - they'd already been reading it together, Henry dragging his finger across the page, a five-year-old deciphering lines of words with a delight that filled her with joy on top of pride - from her bag, and his face had cleared. He'd been looking forward to school, the book had reminded him. The hug he'd given her before she left was one of the tightest she'd got, but he'd never cried. In the end, neither had she - at least not until she was safely back in the car and out of sight.

But of course he didn't remember that either. Well, yes, he did. Only it wasn't Regina smoothening his shirt and kissing the top of his head in those memories now - it was Emma instead.

Regina fought the rising knot in her throat: Henry must notice nothing. A crying mayor would hardly make him eager for another outing in the future. She was still answering questions. Admiration was settling ever more clearly on his face as she spoke. It'd been so long since he'd last looked at her like this, Regina took on another onslaught of tears welling up in her eyes.

Just when she had recovered most of her composure, they'd reached the clock tower.

This was where it'd all started - the end of the Curse. Regina didn't cry her cursed town back - not anymore. But when the giant clock had moved for the first time, its ticking had been no less than the ticking of a bomb for Regina. She and Henry had grown so much further apart, and it'd only been getting worse with every moment. All the decisions she'd made in her desperation to keep him with her had only served to chase him further and further away, and there'd been nothing else she'd known to do but fight this woman Emma, who'd already abandoned him once, to get her out of this town and their lives, so that Henry wasn't hurt - so that she wasn't hurt. It had been a mistake, and Regina had paid dearly.

She was still paying dearly. But now, walking in the park with him, even though he remembered nothing, a gaping wound in her heart was beginning to heal.

"Madam Mayor?"

The strange form of address ripped a new wound open.

The ice cream cone crunched under his teeth and he was looking up at her curiously. Regina chided herself for getting lost in memories again. The world came back into focus, green and fresh-smelling.

"Storybrooke seems like a good place to live."

Storybrooke paled in comparison to New York in so many respects, and the fact that he'd still say such a thing brought a smile on her face. He'd felt like that before. Maybe with his memories back, he'd want to stay again. Without them, though…it was hard to tell. He had a good life in New York, a school, friends - the kind of life Regina wanted for Henry. But she also ached, more than anything, to be able to share that life with him. What could she possibly say to him, though?

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Robin rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of yet another thing he didn't understand. There certainly seemed to be a lot of those around. This land was even messier than the one he'd known before all his life - and that one was far from perfect, too. Perhaps a drink still wasn't a bad idea. He recovered his glass from the table and swirled it slightly, contemplating the clear, colourless liquid.<p>

Several days had passed since Robin and his Merry Men had found themselves in the woods of Storybrooke without the faintest idea of how they'd gotten there. Robin's latest memory had been that of tucking Roland in early in the morning before setting out for a hunt with a few of his men. Then, _poof_ - an unfamiliar forest. The first answers had come within the first hours: they were in a strange land, in the town originally created by the Evil Queen's Curse, and they'd been swiped here by the same kind of Curse cast by someone else this time around. To complicate matters even more, no one remembered the past year or so.

Some habits of this land were easy enough to take on: the clothes were practical and quite comfortable here. All the strange gadgets this realm had to offer would need some gettingused to, though. The new crossbow, for one, was a great make, but he still preferred his own arrows. And, much like in Fairytale Land, he and his men preferred dwelling in the forest to the hum of the town for now.

As if memory loss and an entirely new world weren't enough to cope with, one sinister event was followed by another. Little John was flying around somewhere transformed into a grotesque monkey; Emma, the lost daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and frequently simply labelled the Saviour, had mysteriously returned to Storybrooke; and Neal and a bunch of other people had simply gone missing. And if that wasn't enough chaos, they were also facing a vicious Witch...

...and Robin had just partnered up against her with the former Evil Queen.

Regina - she'd said she preferred Regina. The name suited her, much more so than the "evil" moniker did these days. _How can I possibly know that?_ He'd met the woman not an hour ago for no longer than several minutes. What had made him say that to her? It was a feeling he had, the way she conducted herself. She hadn't been exactly friendly, especially not at first, and yet... There'd been _something_. At one point, they'd suddenly been standing really close, with next to no distance between them. Robin would have expected her to object, but she hadn't. Perhaps she'd been watching the situation unfold with the same fascination he'd experienced around her.

The non-magical drink - whiskey, it was called - tasted bitter on his tongue. The second glass, the one he'd poured for Regina, stood on the table untouched. Why had she hurried off so abruptly? It was almost as though she'd...fled. But she'd been happy enough to accept the drink mere moments before. Had he done anything? If so, he wasn't aware of it. And it kept nagging him.

As he took another sip of the strong liquor, her words rang in his ears again, spoken in that enthralling voice of hers:_ a liquid that can conjure courage, give strength, or even act as a love potion of sorts. _And then she'd chuckled. The smile had spread all the way into her eyes, lighting them up warm and bright, and in that moment the thought that this had once been the great and terrible Evil Queen had seemed perfectly absurd.

Robin shook his head slightly. These thoughts swarming in his head were strange and unusual to say the least, and so was the curious sense of loss creeping upon him now that the abandoned glass was the only trace left of her in the room. Regina had a peculiar effect on him...he simply couldn't place it. Had he known her during the lost year? Had they been friendly? Had they shared drinks before?

The legs of the chair scraped against the floor as he stood up with his glass emptied. He contemplated Regina's untouched one, then retrieved it from the table. Instead of sitting back down, he leaned against the counter she had vacated a while ago. He'd swear it was still warm where her palms had rested upon the hard surface. Without further thought, he downed the contents of her glass.

Whatever it all meant, chances were they'd see each other again - they were, after all, stranded in the same little town, connected by a common foe.

And, above all, Regina was most definitely quite impossible to overlook.


	21. Sursum Corda

_Update time! Thanks again for the reviews, everyone! There's been some clamouring for more OQ interaction after the last heavily R&H chapter - well, wish granted! This chapter is nothing but Regina and Robin scenes sprinkled with a bit of Snow. We're still staying in line with canon as we explore Regina and Robin's t_houghts, feelings and reactions to the events between the _scene with the letter and the kiss. I sure gave myself feels while writing this, so I hope it's contagious. ;) Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em>Stunning in every way.<em>

The letter was a lie. It had never been about her.

Why she was telling this man, why she was baring her soul to him, she couldn't have said. He was there, and he wasn't judging her. He wasn't blaming her, suspecting her, or using her.

Meanwhile, all everyone else seemed to care about was uncovering some horrible dark deed Regina had committed against Zelena in the past. In many cases, they'd find something, too, but this wasn't one of those. That made no difference, though, because no one seemed to believe her when she'd told them so. There was the lost year, as Granny had correctly pointed out. How could she know she hadn't gone Evil Queen on someone's ass then?

Because of the pain, that's how. It had hit her with ruthless abruptness back in Storybrooke - the knowledge of having lost what she loved most. She must have felt this debilitating pain just the same in the Enchanted Forest, only worse, because there had been no sign of an end to it anywhere in sight.

But pain had brought out her temper years ago, the simmering rage her magical tuition had been based on - and it made her do terrible things. Why had this time been any different?

Because it had been. Because this time it had been her son, her actual heart and lifeblood. There would have been no raging fury. Only pain. Indifference. A desire to simply disappear.

No, she had never hurt Zelena.

Perhaps Cora had. With their mother dead, could Zelena want revenge on her sister instead? Cora had never spoken about her, she'd never bothered telling Regina about a sister out there somewhere, a sister who just so happened to have had the same tutor Regina had. But there was the letter…

The letter Robin Hood was still holding, waiting for Regina to speak. Not about what she'd done to hurt the Witch or what she could do to defeat her; his concern was with Regina, how she felt about all of this. It was scary and it was nice. And so she told him, told him all about how she'd held on even in her darkest times to the faded words she'd wrongly claimed.

And he listened, and not a word of judgement passed his lips.

* * *

><p><em>Stunning in every way.<em>

Whoever thought those words weren't true was simply wrong. Maybe the letter didn't really mean Regina, but that did nothing to change the fact that the words applied to her.

As her quiet voice revealed reopened wounds, Robin couldn't take his eyes off of Regina's face. Every little twitch of muscle, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her hair rippled softly and betrayed the slightest movement of her head, spoke volumes about what was really going on inside her. Her faraway look stifled any urge to interrupt the pained flow of words he could possibly have felt. It was hard enough for her as it was.

Was she really telling him all this, letting him see her so vulnerable, yet at the same time emanating a strength that mesmerised him? Her words rang with loneliness and a drop of bitter betrayal. He'd never been happier to have decided to lend an ear - even when she hadn't exactly asked for one.

When her eyes glazed over with emotion at one point, everything in him wanted to reach out to her, to lay a hand on her shoulder, to clasp hers and hope the strange surge of energy he was experiencing would get through to her. But he did nothing, because this was too much for her - and a lot for him to process. Why was this having such an effect on him? Why was _she_ having such an effect on him? What was it about her?

_Bold and audacious_, he'd told her not long ago. _Stunning_, he would have said to her now, _in every way_.

How could he feel so strongly about someone he'd just met?

Perhaps they'd known each other during the lost year. Perhaps they'd even been…friends.

* * *

><p>It had been a long time since she'd opened up to someone like this. It was stupid and reckless. But she'd needed it, and, to her own surprise, it helped.<p>

If Rumple was right - and it would have been foolish to pretend anything else - Zelena's power surpassed that of Regina. How then was she supposed to defeat her?

Robin offered no empty words of comfort, no meaningless promises of how it would all be fine. Still, or perhaps exactly for that reason, a strange calmness came upon her as they sat there, silent and pensive, on opposite ends of the log.

"You'll take her on anyway."

It wasn't a question, he was merely stating a fact. And of course she would, what else could she do? She didn't run from monsters, they ran from her. But just how monstrous was Zelena? Evil wasn't born, after all, it was made, and it would have been impossible not to draw parallels between herself and Zelena even if they didn't share a mother. There was, however, one crucial piece of the puzzle missing: what did Zelena really want, and where did this deep hatred for Regina come from?

Robin leaned towards her - only by an inch, but it was enough to catch her attention. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"It's one on one, just Zelena and I." Even if it weren't, what chance could he possibly stand against a witch more powerful than even Regina was? No, this was their battle, their witch fight.

A witch fight. Of course. Maybe Zelena was counting on this, but still it would slow her down somewhat. And Regina would live, and she'd have gained an advantage because Zelena would gloat while they battled, she would blab, she would reveal at least some part of her plan - maybe unwittingly, but she would, and maybe it would be enough to get them started.

Regina's only done it twice before, but this wasn't a thing one could easily forget. Where would she deposit it? The usual place, most likely: her vault and a bunch of protection spells were her best bet. Regina shifted on the log. Her vault had been broken into before, and everyone knew about it. If she were Zelena, it would be the first place she'd look. What other options were there?

"Bold and audacious," Robin sighed, his brow furrowed, but when she looked at him, somewhat surprised by the unexpected intrusion to her thought process, there was a smile playing on his lips. For some reason, her own lips twitched. She was both of those things, really, the only thing strange was that he'd make such an accurate observation after just several minutes in her company, and not consider those traits a complete turn off. In fact, they resembled a compliment if anything.

"Even if chances are skewed in Zelena's favour, we're many against one. Where I come from," Robin began - where had she heard those words before? "There's an ancient saying that goes _sursum corda_."

"'Lift up your hearts'," Regina nodded. "It's of religious origin." Why was he bringing this up now? It was a curious coincidence, and an impending shiver made Regina sit up straighter.

"Perhaps, but it's used in lieu of 'take courage'. It felt appropriate somehow." Robin shrugged, as if he himself wasn't sure just why he'd felt that way. "Lift up your heart," he repeated softly, perhaps more to himself than her.

"My heart is dark." This was the last thing that should have come up, yet it had just popped out of her mouth. Something strange was definitely at play here, and it wasn't just the bitter taste of her own words.

If Zelena wanted her death, the state of her heart didn't matter. Conversely, in case she needed a heart for a reason other than killing her, it wouldn't be Regina's she'd choose - spells notoriously required ingredients of purity. Even to enact the Dark Curse you needed to sacrifice the purest, brightest part of your dark soul - the thing you loved most. So in this respect, Regina had no reason to worry about her heart being dark or not. Now wasn't the time for remorse, either, so she'd better get a grip.

"When was the last time you looked?"

Robin's direct, unabashed look came as something of a shock. Why wasn't he at all uncomfortable with this? Of course he'd already told her he didn't really see her as the Evil Queen, and that was all nice and well, but her heart really was dark, and he should be concerned, if not repulsed, by that. Regina's hand rested on her chest. Even though Robin had no way of knowing the plan she'd been weaving, he'd unknowingly steered the conversation towards hearts, and now it'd veered to a particular heart - her own.

He was still watching her, intent and unflinching, yet somehow unintrusive as well. As refreshing and nice as it was to have someone look at her and not see the woman she didn't really want to be anymore, that woman was still part of her, and the mark of her atrocious deeds was still very much there: in the lives of those she'd harmed and her own, and it was literally marking her heart black. It was nice to see a friendly face, and if she let him see it in all its naked ugliness, chances were he'd never want to speak a word to her again. But what was the point of him being there just because he didn't know better?

"I'll show you." It was crazy. She was being a fool. Yet somehow it made perfect sense. Now he'd see - and then she'd know what this really meant, if it meant anything at all.

When she laid her hand directly over her heart, Robin stiffened.

"Regina, wh-"

She gasped a little as her fingers plunged into her chest. Robin's eyes widened and his arm shot out to her as if to stop her, then froze midair. It hurt, removing your heart, and Regina screwed up her face as she wrapped her fingers around it and pulled on the soft, warm organ. Something seemed to break, a thousand threads holding it in, a jumble of emotions housed in this heart of hers. Henry's face swam before her eyes, that look of no recognition, and the pain it ignited seemed to dull somewhat as she slid her hand back out smoothly. There it was, sitting safely on her palm, hard and dark. It had been darker and harder yet in Neverland - or maybe that was only what she wanted to see.

Robin was still coming to terms with what he'd just witnessed. As her breathing evened, his face slowly lost the shocked expression, and his eyes travelled from her palm to her face.

"Are you alright?"

Regina swallowed. He was still concerned. Her hand shook as she held the heart out for him to look at. Suddenly she was fighting the urge to hide it from him, to never let him see who she'd been - who she might still be. But she withdraw her hand, didn't close her fist to hide it.

"I see some black," he admitted. A chill ran through her, and her stomach sank.

Well, it wasn't as though she hadn't known. Now he saw it, too. This was it, wasn't it? So why didn't he recoil? Instead, he tilted his head and gave her a direct, candid look. "I see a lot of red, too."

Regina merely stared at him. This man right here had told her he saw her as Regina rather than the Evil Queen, and even in the face of her less than perfect heart, he seemed to have maintained that attitude. Regina Mills, the former Evil Queen, had just been rendered speechless. It was incomprehensible…and so very uplifting.

"Put it back," Robin implored. "Please."

"Where I come from," Regina answered with an involuntary groan, because her body had still not accommodated fully to the loss it had just suffered, "you don't bring your heart to a witch fight."

"Ah," he nodded. "I see. But - you'll be fine?"

"I will."

It was the smile he gave her then that did it. Actually, it was everything else, too: he'd been there for her when everyone else had written her off, and he'd expressed concern for her without being a nuisance. Not many had managed that, or bothered to try. And now he wasn't even put off by the glaring evidence of her past. It was all of this plus the strange connection she felt. But this smile, so warm and so genuine, well this was when she made a decisions she would either bless or regret for the rest of her life.

"So will my heart, if it's kept safe."

Robin's eyes widened once again as her hand went out to him, her fingers releasing their hold on the beating heart. As understanding dawned on him, he regarded her with a mix of confusion and something close to - admiration? But he still made no move to accept what she was offering him in this gesture bolder than any she could recall.

"You said you wanted to help."

Robin licked his lips and seemed about to say something, but then he just reached for the heart that still sat in her hand. The moment his fingers touched it, his breath hitched and he gave her an anxious look. Regina inhaled sharply. It was peculiar to have someone else touching it, but it still felt oddly, inexplicably safe. The way he was looking at it - looking at her - as though he were afraid the thing would break under his touch seemed to suggest she wasn't making such a big mistake after all.

Perhaps they'd known each other during the lost year. Perhaps they'd…talked.

* * *

><p>The beat of Regina's heart against his palm lingered despite him having deposited it in a safer place for now. It had to be the strangest thing he'd ever done, holding her heart like that. She'd barely turned to leave when he planted his feet firmly on the forest floor, bow at the ready, intent on protecting the precious thing with all he had.<p>

Now that she was gone, a peculiar mood had crept on Robin. The forest seemed empty but for him. The citizens of Storybrooke would be so much closer to the epicentre of this showdown, whereas he was isolated. But that was the point: for Regina's heart to be far away from her chest, where hopefully Zelena would not know to look for it. Still, the trees or birds or wind wouldn't betray any of the course of events to him, so he'd be left in the dark until Regina returned.

If something bad happened during the fight, would it show on her heart? Would it beat faster in the heat of battle? Would he be able to tell if she wasn't faring well? They were disturbing thoughts, just like a dislodged heart was an eerie phenomenon, but he couldn't shake the urge to know how she was doing.

Regina's plan was a simple but clever one, and the execution required a lot of courage. Yet she hadn't wavered, not even when she believed she couldn't win. When she'd so matter-of-factly ridden herself of her heart, her face screwed up in pain he couldn't even imagine, it wasn't a blackened heart he'd seen. It was a strong heart, a brave one - and at the same time, fragile.

He'd been allowed a glimpse of her not many had had the privilege to see. Regina was a complicated woman, and her complexity only drew him in further. The pure wonder, the astonishment written in her eyes when he hadn't backed away in disgust or fear at the sight of her heart, were more telling than any words she might have said. _Others have seen_, he'd read loud and clear in her eyes, _they see me like this and they turn away from me_. Well, it was their own stupid fault if they couldn't see past the surface to the person underneath. He'd had a hunch, he'd been allowed insight, and what he'd seen only made him crave more.

Robin's eyes travelled, once again, to the spot where the heart rested hidden. She'd chosen him of all people, which was flattering. But no, it wasn't because he was so very special, more likely because he'd been in the right place at the right time. One thing was sure: he was going to keep it safe for her.

His eyes scanned the forest, every movement, every sound, waiting for someone - Zelena or Rumple or a flying beast - to come claim it. He was ready to defend it. He refused himself the lenience to look too often to the hiding place lest an unseen observer should guess the location of his charge. Robin kept watching for a flash of red, Regina's scarf or her gloves, he listened for her brisk stride, waited for her to return, unharmed and ready to reclaim the heart she was missing.

When she finally did arrive, it wasn't in a stride quite like he'd expected. He could have laughed for joy to see her safe and mostly sound, and the onslaught of relief startled him. Robin lowered his bow and at the same tightened his hold on it, finding the only outlet for the mighty urge to touch her: maybe not hug her, but squeeze her hand or at least, well, pat her on the shoulder or something. Her eyes held a fire worthy of the Queen, but there was no malice, only victory. Then her features contorted the slightest bit, and she staggered almost unnoticeably. Sure, she was keeping a steady pace, but the way she held her arms, a little too stiffly, and the way her steps seemed somehow more measured and cautious, betrayed injuries despite her fervent attempt at hiding the fact. Zelena had proven a tough adversary. But it was Regina who'd come out victorious, and Robin couldn't help his own smile at the sight of Regina's complacent one.

Robin exhaled as he returned the heart to her. They'd both made it: she'd outsmarted Zelena and he'd kept her heart safe for her. It was only now that the weight was lifted off his chest that he fully appreciated just how anxious he'd been to not fail her. He took a deep breath as she regarded her heart. Nothing was stopping her anymore, any moment now she'd replace it again, and the sight would undoubtedly be odd but comforting, too.

Except instead of taking it back, Regina slipped it into a pouch and looked at him with a curious, keen expression. Robin's spine tingled when she took his hand and held it in hers. The touch was warm even through her gloves, and it positively burned when she placed the pouch with her heart in it into his palm.

"Would you hold on to this for me?"

Was she really asking him to do this, entrusting him with it further? She'd called him a thief before, surely that didn't make him a good choice. But she seemed to mean it, and her eyes were unreadable but oh so full of an unidentifiable glow. At his hesitation, she pressed the pouch into his palm firmer.

Laughter rang in his ears: Roland's, his own, and, yes, it had to be Regina's, this was what she had to sound like when she laughed. The scent of apple and cinnamon engulfed him, and of course he'd smelled it before, though much fainter, back at the farmhouse when he'd briefly leaned over her to retrieve the whiskey from the shelf. His skin tingled and burned as fingernails traced patterns across his shoulder and dug into his back. He tasted wine mingled with smoke and honeyed apples on his lips, burning from a searing kiss he'd never had.

"You can't steal something that's been given to you."

If until now his hand had been burning under her touch, now it was time for a chill to run down his spine. Had she really-? Did she mean-? Could this mean-?

Her lips curled into a smile that suggested she was well aware of the effect her words had had, well aware of the potential meanings they carried. _Bold and audacious._

_Stunning in every way._

Whatever this meant, he wanted to find out. He needed to find out. She still owed him that drink, after all, and she didn't seem keen on shrinking the promise.

* * *

><p>Precious little - that was as much as this awkward exercise had yielded. No help at all. All the trouble they'd gone to, and her mother had simply refused to show herself, to say a word.<p>

Was it Regina? Or was it merely Cora's unwillingness to discuss the past Regina sought to uncover?

_You would have been enough._

Well, she wasn't. Again.

Even in death, her mother couldn't find it in her to care deeply enough to really help Regina. It was Cora's failure, not Regina's. As much as it hurt, it was time Regina stopped desperately seeking her mother's approval. It had been unhealthy for too long, and for this Regina wasn't at fault. There were plenty of things in Regina's past to dwell on, plenty of deeds she had to shoulder responsibility for without assuming blame for Cora's mistakes, too.

China clinked softly as Snow put away the last clean saucer. Regina glanced at her: Snow White with her very pregnant bump, permanently swollen these days, voluntarily staying behind here while everyone else was gone. Much to Regina's surprise, she'd so far respected her wish to not overanalyse the recent events. In fact, Snow had been quiet the entire time in the kitchen. That must have required unusual willpower - knowing her, all she wanted to do was discuss every little detail with Regina, and even come up with some kind of a silver lining to the whole mess.

It was too soon, though, so when Snow returned her look, Regina noted the parlour still needed cleaning up, and slipped out.

* * *

><p>For Snow to stay on bed rest would probably have been too much to expect, but this readiness with the mop was too much regardless. Regina considered Snow's huge belly with a frown. Where was all this concern for Snow White coming from? They'd been enemies for so long, not so long ago Regina had been standing on the porch with Snow's darkened heart in her hand, and all she'd felt was malevolence, maybe with a hint of sadness because she'd known all too well what Snow's heart had been going through. And now?<p>

Well, to be fair, Regina'd suspected for a while now, known when she'd been brewing protection spells with her thoughts all centred on Henry and this unborn baby of Snow's, whom Snow mustn't lose to an evil witch like she had Emma. And she could have ascribed the sentiment to mere guilt, to remorse, but if she wanted to be honest with herself, she had to admit it was so much more.

You don't just protect someone with your whole body and soul against a powerful force several times in the span of mere hours and deny the knot in your stomach when your protege ends up possessed by that force anyway. Nor can you deny the massive relief when they turn out fine in the end.

They had come a long way, Regina and Snow, and now they were sitting at the table joking about it, making light of their tangled past. And there fRegina was laying her soul bare, and Snow reached for her hand and Regina didn't slip away this time, and so their hands lay joined on the table before them, and here she was listening to Snow pouring soul into her - not the usual annoying pep talk way, either, but in a moment of genuine connection unlike anything they'd experienced before. And maybe for a moment, Regina believed Snow - maybe for a moment, she believed her heart could indeed one day find its way to happiness.

* * *

><p><em>You don't live your life. <em>

Her breath froze before her very eyes in the chilly night air, but if it weren't for that, Regina wouldn't know about the cold with the heat rising in her cheeks and stomach.

_Don't let anything hold you back_.

Twice today, Regina'd been advised to take risks. Twice, she'd been made to wonder whether the walls she'd built to keep people - and, by extension, pain - out were also keeping her from something else, something she might want. No, something she did want. Twice, Regina's thoughts had drifted towards the forest, dwelling on a very particular former outlaw.

And now Regina was following those thoughts.

Her mind was working feverishly, desperate for a plan, grasping for words to say to him. None came, and the rising panic was becoming harder and harder to fight with every step, and it only grew as she got closer and closer to the Merry Men's camp. Perhaps when she saw him, she'd know what to do.

The smell of smoke hit her nose, faint and strangely savoury. He jumped up when he saw her, and Regina's heart fluttered - how ironic, since she literally had none at the moment.

"M'lady…"

The guilt on his face couldn't be any clearer, and the renewed apology did strange things to her this time around. It seemed to matter so much to him. Was this only ego, only his honour speaking? Or was it really care in his eyes and his voice and his posture? For her?

She should say something to him. She should say something now. But she'd already told him he wasn't to blame, that his child should always come first. And it wasn't what she'd come here for anyway. Words weren't Regina's strong suit, at least not in this kind of situation, especially not when she was emotional - and right now, she was a positive thunderstorm of emotion. Suddenly, she didn't think she could take the intensity of it all any longer.

Grabbing the lapels of his coat, Regina pulled him to her with desperate want, their lips crashing together like there was no tomorrow.

He tasted of clove and honey, he smelled like forest and tasted like forest, and she pressed herself to him, as close to him as she could and dared. Regina was kissing him with a hunger that scared her, except he was letting it happen, too, he wasn't pushing her away. But he wasn't responding either, or at least not in a way that would feel quite right.

Regina pulled back, panic threatening to engulf her again, shame and humiliation on the brink of breaking over her. Was he going to reject her here and now? Was her new-found will to take a chance going to be her doom after all?

His eyes betrayed utter befuddlement, maybe even shock. They said many other things she couldn't quite understand, but disgust or scorn weren't one of them.

And then he was diving for her, crashing against her with a passion that made her stagger. But the next moment he was holding her close, kissing her with fervour that made all her worries disappear. _Yes_, her heart was screaming somewhere, _yes_, and if Zelena was by any chance looking, maybe she'd even see the way Regina's heart hammered from the heat of the kiss and the tight embrace and the light-headed joy of it all. Robin's hand went up to her hair, brushing through it and swiping her cheek on the way, and Regina couldn't help the sigh that escaped her at the sensation. Her skin seemed to come alive under his touch, her nerves were tingling with life unlike she'd remembered in a long time. And still their lips remained locked, and he was showing no sign of wanting to let go. So perhaps he didn't want to.

Neither did she.


	22. Full Circle

_Warning: OQ fluff ahead. You'll also have noticed by now that I do love Regal Believer and Snow Queen, so there's that. We'll be leaving Storybrooke soon, so enjoy your stay. Thanks for the lovely reviews, I love hearing from you!_

* * *

><p>"I should go," she muttered just as she continued kissing him, and dug her fingers deeper into his jacket.<p>

Robin ran his thumb over her cheek, savouring the moment - just a little longer, just another minute. But each last kiss was followed by another. When they did rest a moment, she'd lean into him and he'd run his fingers through her hair, and then she'd sigh softly as he placed a kiss on the top of her head, to which she'd run a hand up his back and he'd shiver. And then they'd kiss, tender at first, then passion would take over and before they knew it it would start all over again.

How had this happened? How had he ended up sitting on a log in an embrace with her, kissing under the canopy of green and blue? Now of all times, after he had failed her so badly, after he'd given up such a precious object to the Witch. But with Roland's life at stake, his hands had threatened to go unsteady at Rumplestiltskin's threat, the arrow had quivered the slightest bit - not enough for him to miss but enough for him to know what was at stake to appreciate the full scale of his anxiety. He'd hated it, he still hated having sacrificed her heart. The knowledge he'd do the same over again if Roland was in danger didn't make it much easier… But Regina understood. She was a mother, after all, and her Henry always had and always would have precedence over everything, Robin had seen and heard enough to know so much. So she wasn't mad, or hurt, or bitter. She didn't require an apology, but he still felt he owed her one.

He _would_ get her heart back.

"It's late." Regina ran her fingers up his arm, all the way to his shoulder and neck. Robin didn't know whether to melt at the sweetness of the touch or go crazy with the thrill of it. She was a true marvel, passionate and enticing, yet at the same time there was a strange innocence to her. Robin rubbed her arms gently. It was cold and her coat was open. For a moment he toyed with the idea of buttoning it up, then he simply placed his arms around her and pulled her close to him, until she rested with her chest to his.

"May I walk you, m'lady?"

He felt her smile into his neck and chuckled. It didn't matter what this was or how it had come to being right now. All that mattered was how good, how right it all felt. All that mattered was that she wanted this just as much as he did.

"Why, yes." Regina placed a small kiss to his jaw. "What a gallant offer."

Her hair tickled his neck. He twirled a strand around his finger and breathed in her scent, so enticing and so... Regina. Sweet and spicy. Apple and cinnamon. Just like that strange vision he'd had when he'd held her heart in his hand. If he heard her laugh like that one of these days, laugh the way he'd heard her laugh in that peculiar moment, well, that would be wonderful. And there'd been a kiss… No, they hadn't kissed quite like that, with the kind of abandon his vision had suggested - at least not yet. But what they were doing, the kisses and caresses they had shared, was enough to make his head spin all the same. All he wanted now was this: them getting closer, opening up to each other, spending time together, exploring what could be, what they could be, what they could have together. Who knew, in time…

If there was time for them at all.

"Regina, I have something to tell you."

He hadn't meant for it to come out harsh or threatening at all, and it hadn't. All the same, Regina tensed at his words, she slipped away from his arms and looked at him with the slightest hint of betrayal at having been caught off guard. She pulled her coat tight around her and moved away from his reach, but he finally recovered enough to take her by the hand before she could put a wall between them.

"No, nothing like that." Although what _that_ meant Robin wasn't sure, but clearly something about his words had suggested bad news to her. "I think one could even say it's good news."

Regina's face remained tense for a moment before she relaxed again, slowly, gradually, and she chanced an uncertain smile. Then, out of the blue, she grabbed him by both hands and pulled him to his feet.

"Tell me on the way, then."

For a few steps she led him by the hand from the campsite, then her hold on him weakened, as if she wasn't sure if this hand-holding business was something they should be engaging in. Was this more than she was ready for, more intimate for her than kissing? Robin caught up with her easily and let his hand slip from hers and rest lightly on the small of her back. A while passed in silence without any kind of reciprocation of the gesture. Then Regina's hand came up around him, holding on to his coat.

There was no sound except for an owl's hooting and their own footsteps. Astonishingly, Regina was perfectly capable of negotiating the terrain in heels while looking spotless and effortless. Surely he should refrain from staring at her too much, but heavens, was she beautiful.

Regina arched her eyebrow at him after a while, a smile playing on her lips.

"Sorry," Robin murmured, but couldn't quite wipe the little grin from his face.

"You're an open book, Robin of Locksley."

"I find you quite stunning and I've no intention of denying it."

"Good."

And it had to be, because she was smiling.

What was he waiting for? They had already crossed the forest and were now entering the town itself, and still he hadn't spoken a word of the news he'd promised her. Truth be told, he was enjoying the moonlit stroll with Regina, and perhaps this could be just that: a romantic walk of a very fresh couple. Just that, not a war council or a strategic meeting. She hadn't spoken a word either, not since the forest. Once in a while she gave him a fleeting look, and every time she did, she seemed surprised to find him there, looking back at her with the warmness he knew must radiate from his eyes. She seemed surprised - and pleased.

When they passed the clock tower, Robin frowned at the giant clock-face. That was where Regina had been thrown crashing into during the showdown with Zelena. Now it bore no mark of the incident, and more importantly, neither did she - at least not physically. They turned into a street of stately rows of houses. Soon, they'd be at her door, and he'd return to the camp alone.

"Do you believe in prophecies?"

Regina missed a step, and her arm slipped from around Robin's waist. Her eyes flickered to his wrist for the briefest moment, but she looked away immediately.

"I've seen a few come true, though I'm not exactly fond of them." Regina took him by the hand and resumed walking up the street, her pace a little quicker than before, her smile faded, and her eyes avoiding his. "Why?"

He kept up with her all the way to the gate. Regina pushed it open and almost marched towards the large white mansion definitely fit for a Queen.

Something had happened, and Robin racked his brain in search of the reason. Three times tonight he'd seen fear settle in her eyes: when she'd first kissed him and waited for his response; when he'd mentioned he had something to tell her; and when he brought up prophecies. What could they possibly have in common? The first one was easy - she hadn't been sure he reciprocated, although he would have thought it clear. The second one was guessable - she'd had plenty of bad news recently, and had apparently learnt to expect this rather than the good sort. It pained him to imagine what her soul must have endured to steel itself against trouble so much it didn't count with the possibility of joy anymore. The third one, the prophecy, was the biggest enigma. Then again, she'd just told him she wasn't fond of them, and he had mixed feelings about them himself, so maybe that was really all there was to it.

Stepping onto the porch, Regina turned to face him, her face serene and determined.

"You were going to tell me something."

"Better. I'll show you."

Regina's eyes widened momentarily, leaving him clueless again. They'd better get it over with as quickly as possible, then, he didn't want to cause her unnecessary distress.

Up until now, Robin's nerves had been perfectly calm at the idea of the letter, only set aquiver by Regina's eyes and lips and hair, and her fingers interlaced with his. Now, as he leaned down to unlace his boot, his heart began pounding faster for different reasons. What if he was wrong and the prophecy concerned someone else entirely? A different sorceress, a different blood-relative. No. Something was telling him he was right. His gut had always served him well, and now was not the time for doubts - indeed, time was the one commodity they didn't have.

The Curse, thankfully, hadn't removed it, he'd checked the very first day, and now he pulled the folded letter from his boot and handed it to Regina. Her features rearranged into a calmer, though still curious expression. Good. She was no longer worried.

"A prophecy?" She eyed the parchment before she took it, but instead of opening the letter immediately, she fixed him with her eyes.

"Yes. One of those that do come true." It had to. If it did, it would mean the defeat of Zelena, the return of Regina's heart, and with it the security of hers and everyone else's survival. If not... but no, that wasn't an option.

Regina bowed her head with a half-smile. "I might not be here to see it."

"You will be."

"There's no need to coddle me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. You'll be here to see it because, if I'm not mistaken, you'll be the one to make it happen. See for yourself." Robin gestured at the letter in Regina's hands, and with one last glance at him, she unfolded it and began to read.

_You whom they call the Prince of Thieves, to you I entrust a delicate task of crucial importance._

_A powerful sorceress is rising to one day become a threat to us all. The green-eyed monster shall transcend the boundaries of magic to swallow lives as if they'd never existed. The sorceress can be vanquished, but if by the day of her most horrid deed no one should succeed, a failsafe must be provided._

_You, Prince of Thieves, must obtain for me her own pair of slippers imbued with the magic to travel between realms. Heed my call now, for the Dark One has already set his sights on them. Find the man known as the world-hopper and remove the slippers. Leave them in the trunk of an ancient, magical tree you've passed many times in the heart of the forest. My enchantment shall lend them what power is needed, and they shall be moved to a place from which only the sorceress' own blood can retrieve them when the time comes._

_Dark and light she shall be, hard and soft, the bearer of a heart most resilient._

_Tarry not, Prince of Thieves, for time is of the essence._

_G._

For the longest time, Regina said nothing. Her fingers traced the letter G unwittingly, and her face remained averted.

Robin's stomach sank. Had he been too late? Was she wondering why he hadn't shown her earlier?

"I wasn't sure you'd believe me," he blurted in his defence, "and then I was way too stunned by the trust you'd placed in me - with your heart. I was going to see you first thing in the morning, but…you beat me to it."

Regina raised her face to him, and, inconceivably, she was smiling.

"Come inside. I have something to show you, too."

* * *

><p>"A resilient heart," Regina said as they took the stairs in full stride. "It's what the time travel spell says one of the ingredients should be."<p>

"Does it? So that's why Zelena wanted yours. I see."

"I've never performed light magic before." She hesitated for a moment. "I don't think I can."

Robin was overcome by an urge to reach out to her, to erase that hint of dejection in her voice, but she was way ahead of him, drawn towards something on the upper floor.

"I don't know about that, but the letter doesn't mention light magic. It just says light."

"Boils down to the same thing, really."

One door, and they were in a large wardrobe of sorts. Another one, and rows and rows of shoes were revealed.

"Is this what a Queen's wardrobe looks like?"

"You bet," she grinned, as she shifted a few pairs of shoes unceremoniously. "Here they are."

Once she turned and held them out to him, there was no doubt in his mind: it was indeed them. The slippers.

Robin eyed them incredulously. "You had them the entire time?"

"Not before this Curse, no. I found them quite by accident the first day back. I sensed some magic, but nothing I could place."

Regina's eyes twinkled. Robin was fairly certain his were doing the same.

"We've got her."

* * *

><p>Regina sipped the wine absently, her mind entirely focused on processing the bursts of sensations caused by Robin's fingers travelling up and down her calves in lazy patterns. Tonight had turned out fantastic. She'd finally plucked up courage to walk through the door she'd run away from all those years ago, and the man on the other side of that door had welcomed her with open arms. They'd treated themselves to a moonlit stroll, and now also a fireside moment. And they'd found a weapon to use against Zelena.<p>

Perhaps they wouldn't even work. Somehow, she believed they would. How silly, really. Snow was always the one to build on belief, on faith - not Regina. But this time, well, her gut was telling her to have faith. She stared down at her feet, or her shoes, more precisely: sleek, black, stylish.

"They look good on you." Robin tickled her ankle. How tantalising.

"You didn't imagine I'd wear them silver and gaudy, did you?" she grinned. A simple charm was all it took to make them presentable, so why not?

"I should go," he muttered just as he continued stroking her legs, then slowly shifted closer to her and running his hands up her arms.

"Then go," Regina purred inches from his lips.

"I never dreamt I'd have such a delightful supper tonight."

Regina chuckled. It was way too late - or early, perhaps - for anything, really, even the wine.

"It's almost time for breakfast." But she had owed him a drink, and she hadn't wanted to part with him just yet, so she'd chosen to let him cash in now. He hadn't objected, and she hadn't regretted it, either.

"I hear Granny makes delicious pancakes," Robin mumbled in between soft little pecks on her lips, "whatever they are."

"Mmm." The man was a nightmare - how was he having such an effect on her? He was a gentleman, even though she felt him tense at times under the strain of holding back. The chaste kisses tasted sweet, but she also wanted more, more of him now, because what if tomorrow never came? Regina tilted back her head, and Robin began to pepper her jaw with kisses. Speaking was proving most trying - even forming a coherent thought was almost beyond her. "You haven't...tried pancakes yet?"

"No, but Roland's been singing praises. Would you care to introduce me to them?"

He wanted to have pancakes with her. She, Regina Mills, had just been asked to share this perfectly ordinary thing with someone she cared about, in the face of an impending end, while he was stroking her chin and kissing the corners of her mouth.

This was good. This was right.

"Are you inviting me for breakfast?" Regina asked with narrowed eyes, playful on the surface but eager for assurance underneath.

Robin stood up, pulling her with him. The wine glasses were empty and the clock was striking three. Regina felt dizzy in his arms. Maybe it was the wine, although she hadn't had much. Maybe the man opposite her was more at fault. He brushed his fingers through her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. His fascination with her hair was endearing, and she couldn't suppress a smile.

"I certainly am," Robin whispered, rubbing his nose against hers.

"Pick me up at eight."

* * *

><p>Rummaging through a box of Snow's scarves in search for the elusive storybook, Regina threw a sideways glance at Emma. So she knew now: how it was to be a mother, that slipping into the role of your child's big sister or cool aunt wasn't enough. Sometimes you had to be strict, sometimes you had to say no, even if it made them mad with you, even if it hurt. Emma had stopped Henry's line of questioning at the diner in a way that had left the Charmings and Regina with their mouths agape - and Henry, too, of course. The last year must have taught Emma something about parenthood. Maybe now she understood more about what it had been like for Regina.<p>

The book kept eluding them with a stubbornness that was almost a match for Regina's own - almost. Eventually, it was Snow it chose to reveal itself to, just like the first time. There was magic involved here, although whose magic and how exactly it worked was a mystery to everyone including Regina. The questions it posed would keep returning every now and then, even though they didn't haunt her sleep anymore the way they used to. The first time around, the book had been a formidable foe, the messenger of her doom. This time, however, it was a coveted ally, the promise of deliverance. Regina's heart beat faster at the mere sight of it.

All that remained now was to get it to him.

Emma's fingers were white as she pressed the book to her chest. Regina watched her closely. The most terrible moments of her life had been the ones where she'd been faced with the prospect of Henry's loss. In a way, the same thing was happening to Emma now. Yes, it was hard. It was hard giving part of your child away, doubting if it was even indeed in his best interest. Regina could have just rushed to her, torn the book from her hands and shoved it into Henry's, but instead she stood rooted to the spot. Emma would do it, she knew she needed to.

Regina, as full of anticipation as she was because her little prince would finally know her for his Mom again, also felt a fear-like chill sneaking up on her. What if it didn't work? What then? There was nothing else. This had to work. It just had to. And it would. _Henry might not want you anymore_, a malicious little voice piped up from some dark crevice of her heart, _he had the perfect life in New York with his other mother, why would he want this one back?_

The buzz in her head drowned out Emma's words as she offered the book to Henry, and it only intensified when he hesitantly accepted it. He flinched and closed his eyes, his face scrunched up with emotion, but what emotion it was she couldn't say. Regina trembled, her hand shot towards him, but her knees must have turned to water because she could barely support herself, let alone move forward. And still nothing was certain, still he might not remember.

But Henry's eyes had opened now, his gaze was becoming focused, and then it rested on her. He was looking at her - and _seeing_ her. But what exactly was he seeing? A mother? A mayor? An Evil Queen?

"Mom…"

Regina's world began to turn. A silent laugh of utter relief and utter happiness broke out of her chest like a long-suppressed breath. Her world had turned around and clicked back into place.

"Mom!"

She ran, not giving a damn about the tears in her eyes or the lump in her throat or the way her ankle gave way and rolled but no one would have guessed because she herself felt nothing but joy and love - so much love.

Then she was holding her baby again, and her baby was hugging her back.

The Curse almost faded from her mind; if it weren't for Emma's pained smile, she might not have remembered.

"Do it," Regina said to her firmly, turning Henry around, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Break the Curse."

A flash of magic later, Henry was gone. Regina whipped around at the sound of Zelena's voice.

This was it. Now Zelena'd gone a step too far. No one was threatening Henry and getting away with it.

A blast of magic issued from Regina's palm. Zelena cackled. Regina's world went black.

Next thing she knew, she was lying on the cold floor with Henry crouched over her, calling to her with such desperation in his voice that the first thing she felt wasn't the ache of bruises but a stab at where her heart should have been but wasn't. He was there, and he was alright. Bruises didn't matter. All that mattered was him.

Love surged through her as she vowed to never let him go again, love so overwhelming and forceful that she staggered under its intensity. She felt a jolt of energy surge through her as her lips touched his forehead. Henry gasped and Regina held on to him as another wave of intense emotion swept through her.

_Books tumbling, pages flying, an arrow stopped in midair, a cloud of dust in the wake of a fireball. Snakes, monkeys, unicorns, beasts and a green witch and slippers. An infuriatingly handsome outlaw peeking through her walls, undoing them brick after brick until she chose to raise them back up in fright. Futile fight. The Curse. The smell of forest - of him - seeping into her pores as her cheek rested on his chest. Until we meet again_.

Broken. They'd done it: the Curse was gone, and Henry's memories were back. Everyone's memories were back.

* * *

><p>Robin was crouching behind a hazelnut bush when it happened.<p>

"…five, six, sev-" Roland's voice died away mid-word.

A peculiar energy swept through the forest, rippling strangely, setting leaves and boughs in motion in its wake.

_Dark castle, dark night, dark silk. Dark words, dark thoughts, dark eyes. Battle of arrow and magic, battle of wits and wills, battle of fear and longing. Winged beasts and his son, safe in Regina's arms. Soft words, light banter, bright eyes. The Mirror, the slippers, the Curse. His face in her long hair as he twirled and twirled it around his finger, his wrist, his forearm. Until we meet again._

"Papa!"

Robin rushed to pick the confused child up. He could have lost him. Oh, how he'd feared he might lose him. But the Curse hadn't separated father and son. It hadn't kept Regina and him from discovering this curious connection they had - curious and delightful. Robin held Roland tighter, light-headed with relief and with a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He'd pressed Roland to him just like this back in the Enchanted Forest before the Curse had struck. Only then three of them had shared the embrace.

"Papa," Roland placed his little hand on Robin's cheek, "I want Regina."

Robin laughed.

* * *

><p>Henry would know now.<p>

Would he be wary of this new, strange man in his mother's life? Having him find out like he had, by catching them kissing in the corridor, wouldn't have been Robin's choice of an introduction. But it was done, and after all, his feelings had been, and still were, sincere with nothing indecent or shameful about them. Still, it was normal, Robin guessed, to feel apprehensive. Henry's reaction mattered.

And so did Regina's.

Regina was terrified of letting herself care, feel, love, scared of exposing herself to potential pain and loss. Twice, she'd given her feelings free reign, both times spurred by the looming danger of cataclysm. Was two times enough? Would she dare take a chance with him now, or would she retreat once again? He wanted to know, he needed to know. Robin quickened his pace - it helped the onsetting nerves somewhat, and he'd get there sooner.

It wasn't hard to guess the way, because everywhere people were swarming out of their houses, talking and hugging and pointing at the sky above the harbour. Thankfully, he'd left Roland in the forest with Little John. It had been hard to convince Roland to wait a little more to see Regina, and Robin didn't blame him, but it was best they resolved matters without Roland getting in harm's way - who knew what Zelena was up to now that her Curse had failed.

Only when he reached the door did he stop. Regina hadn't enjoyed the company of her son for over a year. Now they were reunited. No matter how much Robin yearned to see her now that they both remembered, she and Henry both deserved some time together, undisturbed. Robin turned away and headed towards the pier - he'd wait for them there - when he heard her voice, bright and so, so vivid with happiness. She laughed, and so did Henry. Robin and the newly ensued, absurdly wide grin glued to his face moved towards the pier. He didn't get far when the sound of his own name made him turn back.

As soon as he opened the door, he wasn't nervous anymore. There was a slight blush in Regina's cheeks when he smiled at her, and maybe, just maybe, he'd heard a soft sigh as he and Henry shook hands. Something about Henry felt a lot like Regina, and yes, Robin knew they weren't related by blood but in the end, what did blood matter when you loved someone with all your heart and raised them for eleven years?

They walked out together, Regina's arm around Henry's shoulders and Robin's around Regina's, and when her hand came to rest on his back, that stupidly wide grin returned to his face again and didn't even seem stupid at all.

* * *

><p>Just as David disappeared behind the corner on his way to the vending machine, Regina knocked on the door with her free hand. Snow's response came sheepish and strained. For a moment Regina almost smirked - did she think Zelena would actually knock? But Snow did have good reason to fear, and Regina was part of the problem - had been the problem once.<p>

"Regina." Snow relaxed visibly, her shoulders slumped and her head fell back on the pillow. She didn't at all look like an eager mother-to-be.

"Chipped ice," Regina announced quite unnecessarily as she handed the plastic cup to her.

"Oh…" David had just gotten out to get some for her and maybe Snow was about to say so - as if Regina hadn't noticed him going in precisely that direction - but then thought better about it. "Thanks."

Regina's eyes rested on the chair pulled up beside the bed. Maybe she wasn't welcome here. It was David's place, or anyone else's really, but not Regina's. Yet she'd had to come.

Snow was holding on to the cup with both hands, the warmth thawing the contents rapidly, beads forming on the outside of the plastic container and rolling down her fingers. Her knuckles were white, her mouth set. The occasion looked nothing like childbirth and everything like a funeral. The fury rising in her at the sight of Snow's agony was so familiar and yet so completely different from what Regina had experienced for most of her life.

"She's not getting your baby."

The cup slipped a little as Snow's hands shook, and she only just managed to hold on to it. Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, as if to get a better look at Regina - indeed, her eyes bore into Regina's with eerie intensity.

Once upon a time, it had been the Evil Queen that Snow White and Prince Charming had to face at the very time they'd been supposed to rejoice over the birth of their baby girl. Regina had taken that away from them, taken her away, destroyed a family's happiness. What damage could be repaired still remained to be seen. If there was any part Regina could play in it, then that was what she needed to do. The nightmare had come back to haunt Snow and David again, but for Regina, this time was different. This time she wasn't the evil witch. No, this time Regina would be the one to help thwart the threat - and in defeating Zelena, she'd reap victory over an evil she had once been and no longer wanted to be. She'd come full circle. So if there was someplace for Regina to be at this very moment, it had to be here.

"What if she does?" Snow's voice was barely a whisper.

"We're all doing everything in our power to keep you safe."

"I know that." Snow reached out across the bed. Regina hesitated for just a moment before she moved to squeeze her hand. "I know that, Regina. I'm just afraid it won't be enough."

"What is it you always say? About good always winning? About always holding on to hope?"

"You mean all the pathetic stuff you always roll your eyes at?"

Regina did just that - and Snow chuckled through the contraction that made her features twist in pain.

"You always knew how to cheer me up." Snow smiled, though it was a tired one. "Remember?"

Regina did, but she also remembered the constant conflict she'd been in, unknown to Snow, ever since the wretched betrayal and the miserable marriage, until the time her hatred of Snow had come out into the open.

"Maybe once. Now, I'm not so sure."

"You're much better at this than you give yourself credit for."

" I doubt that, but thanks anyway." So she'd done fine after all, at least she had cheered her up, if only a little bit for a brief moment That was something. Snow would see the effect her appreciation had on her, of course, even though Regina tried, as usual, not to let it show.

"Just be careful."

"I'll do what needs to be done." Whatever it took, but she didn't say that out loud for fear it'd only freak Snow out even more. "You just make sure you and the baby are fine."

Snow's face scrunched up in pain and her nails dug into Regina's hand. As if on cue, the door flew open and David rushed in, followed by a harried Whale.

"It's…time," Snow groaned.

To have the baby, Regina understood.

"It's time," she nodded.

To stop Zelena.


	23. Dark and Light

_Here it is at last: a new chapter! This update took a while but for all the right reasons: I was busy getting ready for the Paris con, and now I'm processing all the wonderful things, such as getting to hug Lana and meeting Sean and Jared as well! I might need a little time to recover from all this. _Again, thanks a lot for your support and patience and I _hope you enjoy my take on Regina and Zelena's clash at the barn...and the consequences._

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><p>Snow had been right. All of their joint effort had proven insufficient to stop Zelena - damn it, it hadn't even been enough to slow her progress. Regina rubbed the back of her head, hardly aware of the bump there or her throbbing shoulder or bruised arms.<p>

The baby was gone.

So were Emma's powers - their best chance. Their only chance. So this is what Zelena had needed the Curse for: to make sure the Saviour, the only wielder of white magic around powerful enough to be a threat to her, lost that magic, and with it all hope of Zelena being defeated.

Except now it was Regina storming the barn with Robin, David and Hook in tow. Now it was Regina hoping against hope that Henry was right, that there was light in her and that she'd be able to summon that light and transform it into magic. She'd never done it before - until today. But that was different, she hadn't exactly done anything, at least not in that sense. The love she felt for Henry simply happened to be there, it was part of her being, ran through every fibre of her body, and it had acted of its own accord without her having had to push for anything at all. That was how true love's kiss seemed to work - it couldn't be forced, it just happened.

But this was different. Magic of this kind required focus, and as good as her concentration could be, until now her fuel had always been some dark aspect of her soul: anger, hatred, pain. _That simmering rage_. It was all she had. No, it was all she used to have, once. Not anymore.

She'd done good things. Not as many as she'd done evil, but she'd done them even though they hadn't been easy. Zelena was threatening Henry, threatening Snow and her baby, threatening the whole town, and Regina wouldn't let her hurt them. This wasn't about hatred or vendetta. This was about protecting others - people she, in some way or other, cared about and felt responsibility towards. People she even loved.

_Love is weakness_.

Robin was behind her with his bow at the ready, she heard his footsteps among all the rest and even smelled that characteristic vague waft of pine and fire.

_And what good did this advice ever do to me, mother? _She'd given up everything she loved for vengeance, and lost everything else: her father, Henry, and the rage she had nourished, the rage she had mistaken for life once was just like a fire burning in a hollow cave, burning boldly but without warmth, without light.

The barn door was closed but wouldn't stay so for much longer. They were almost upon her. Regina's knees threatened to buckle for a split second: another door of another building, not a barn but a stable, loomed before her eyes.

_Love, true love, is the most powerful magic of all._

She'd loved and she'd lost.

But it had been finding love again through Henry that made her feel alive once more, even if it came with the fear of losing everything, of hurting, of breaking. That risk was just the price you had to pay for opening your heart to it. Everything, not just magic, came with a price. Some things were simply more worth paying that price for than others.

Everything was sharp and clear as they barged in: the curious lines and shapes on the floor; the blood-curdling offerings of a brain, a heart, and a newborn; Zelena's smug face distorted with malice and a sort of twisted joy corrupted by grievance and envy and blind hatred. Regina's breath hitched. She was essentially looking at herself years ago - maybe mere months - and she barely recognised the woman she was seeing. But her mortification only lasted a second because she couldn't afford more, not now, and she couldn't afford to feel sympathy for her sister either. At least not until this fight was over.

Hook, David and Robin fanned out around the room.

"I've got your heart," he said, and that was the final push, the last piece that clicked into place.

Zelena never bothered stopping the men circling her, her smugness clearly etched on her face. She was so certain Regina was helpless against her, that she was dark and horrible and incapable of summoning the light needed to overpower her. Everyone had always believed that. Regina had come to believe that. Regina wavered, and the fine threads of light she had managed to collect and weave a weapon from only flew apart. They were counting on her and she was going to let them down. Zelena knew this, too. She laughed - that sharp, mocking cackle - and laughed and laughed.

A spark of desperate rage - so very familiar - fired a blast of magic that surged towards Zelena, and… Nothing. Zelena's laughter rang in her ears in the chilly air, and Regina's fury grew along with her despair.

David launched himself forward in a foolish though understandable attempt to get to his son. Next moment he was flying against a wall. He hit it with a mighty crash and landed in a crumpled, groaning mess.

When Zelena held her up in the air, powerless and completely at her mercy, Regina struggled for breath because she always did - she always held on to life, no matter how miserable it seemed for her. So she struggled even though she had already lost.

_I believe in you. Now you must believe, too._

_Oh, Henry. _They'd come so far. She'd come so far. It can't all have been for nothing.

_I _know_ you love me._

And she did. With every fibre in her body, she loved him. Her little prince.

Zelena was gloating, spewing word after venomous word, but Regina didn't hear her, she only heard Henry's voice and Snow's and Robin's, all these people believing in her, and it still seemed incredible, inconceivable - but, nonetheless, true.

Cold sweat stung in her eyes. She blinked and caught a flash of red against dark green.

There it was - her heart, safe and sound in his hand.

"I make my own destiny."

It had been hard to believe this was possible for her. It was still hard to believe, even as the energy surged through her, warm yet calming, nothing like the searing burst of dark magic she'd always felt before. Bright bolts of magic, silver-white instead of the usual purple, hit the Witch - her sister - square in the chest.

The Dark One's dagger flew out of Zelena's hands and clattered against the ground. The shock on Zelena's face lasted long enough for them to close in on her, Robin with his bow and Regina wielding no magic now - but she could be, the energy was still filling her to the brim, and it was marvellous, nothing like anything she'd ever experienced before. It was like freshly cut grass, a juicy apple on a warm summer day, the wind in her hair as she flew through the meadow on horseback, the way baby Henry had felt in her arms and the way it felt now when he hugged her.

Zelena clutched at her throat, her fingers finding the chain of her pendant - the pendant Regina needed to remove. Rumple was closing in on the dagger they needed to secure. Could he be trusted? She could still get there first, and the pendant should be harmless for now, Zelena far too little recovered to collect enough magic for a backlash. It did still, however, contain Zelena's magic, powerful and therefore dangerous.

Regina reached for the pendant, and Zelena, resigned, released her hold on it. As Regina's fingers curled around the green stone, the magic contained in it hummed to life. A flash of light later, she yelped and snatched her hand away. The searing pain was nothing, the skin burnt black hardly hurt compared to Rumple's betrayal. If it hadn't been for her hand on the pendant or for the deflective magic cast over it, Zelena would have been dead.

"You don't get to kill her!" Regina screamed as she scrambled to her feet. Rumple stepped forward, but Robin blocked him and sent an arrow on its way. It was no match for the Dark One, however, and fell to the ground at a wave of his hand. Rumple bared his teeth at the man standing between him and his revenge. Before Hook rushed in from somewhere, his attempt foiled by a lazy flick of Rumple's wrist.

"Step down," Rumplestiltskin growled at Regina, his sneer in Robin's direction a threat so clear she couldn't possibly miss it.

"Now's not the time to have this discussion!"

Then Robin was flying through the air, Regina's heart knocked out of his hand. Two of the pits on the ground burst into flame: the baby and, having been drawn back in by magic once Robin had dropped it, Regina's heart.

"You can only save one - or none."

Regina released a blast of water from each palm. It wouldn't quench the flames. Of course it didn't.

Like so many times before, Rumple was making her choose again. Somewhere deep in her soul she hated him for it, but now was not the time for that. She needed to make her choice: her heart, Snow's baby, or her wayward but possibly redeemable sister.

_Nothing's worth the loss of a child._

The baby whimpered as she snatched it from the enchanted flames, but it was unharmed. She'd been quick enough. Regina pushed the newborn into David's arms and turned to Rumple and Zelena. He was towering over her with the dagger in his hands, ready to strike.

Regina worked up a ball of magic, whether white or purple she couldn't have said, and took aim. The dagger was coming down, soon it would plunge into Zelena's chest. Just as the spell swished through the air, Zelena jerked aside. Rumble roared in frustration at the sound of glass shattering. Regina's magic missed and shattered against a wall, leaving a smoking dent. The dagger had never come as low as Rumple had planned for it to, stopped by the cracked emerald pendant in Zelena's outstretched hand.

Green snakes of some smoky substance issued from the damaged stone, swirling like so many magical snakes released from an eternal prison.

"No!" How could this be? They'd defeated her after all. They should be safe, this shouldn't be happening, if only Rumple hadn't…

Rumple let out a bestial groan, and for once, Regina could only agree. She looked around, her eyes darting from corner to corner in a frantic attempt to fight back somehow. The greenness was spreading fast, filling the pattern etched on the ground with its magic. David lifted his eyes form his son and gazed wildly. Hook fought his way up, picked up his sword, then let it fall down again at the sight of a small vortex surfacing in the centre of the barn.

"It's too late," Zelena spat with a triumphant glint in her eyes, though not without bitterness in her words.

Was this it, then?

"Regina, no! Regina!"

Robin. Where was he? She couldn't see his form where he had landed anymore. Then he emerged from behind the green haze of Zelena's spell. And he was holding her heart. It glowed strangely red, as if it weren't even hers. Robin stumbled on his feet, still weak from the hit he'd suffered. His hand was singed from the hot flames, but he'd retrieved her heart for her - again.

And it was all for naught.

People started swarming into the barn like moths drawn to a flame, arriving only to meet their end that much sooner.

Robin stared at her shoes, black and sleek. Yes, of course… Perhaps it wasn't over yet. As she squinted at the shoes, recalling all the things in Robin's letter and all the things she knew about the story of the slippers, the spell she'd put on the shoes began to lift of its own accord, revealing a pair of gaudy, kitschy slippers Regina wouldn't be caught dead in.

Dark and light. Hard and soft. The owner of a resilient heart - though still without it now.

Robin's fingers raked the ground as the pull of the portal had knocked him off his feet and dragged him towards the centre of the vortex. His other hand outstretched, he struggled to keep Regina's heart out of the portal desperately. It was a lost cause. It didn't matter now, however. She could do this without her heart if she could do this much already. But instead, she only stared as Robin fought against the portal's force. He'd be the first to be snatched because he'd gotten to close while trying to get to her heart. Everyone else would follow soon enough. Their eyes locked and maybe she should say something, say _it_, but before she could muster the will or form the words, he couldn't hold on anymore. The portal swallowed him with her heart still clutched in his hand.

_Until we meet again._

People screamed and scrambled to get out of harm's way - too late. The portal swept one, then another, then the next one, and with each victim its hunger only grew, and with it grew the portal's gaping mouth.

Regina closed her eyes and clicked her heels three times. Everything disappeared in a vortex of colour and stifled screams.


	24. Part III: Dorothy

_Here we go: new chapter, new world, same old characters - or maybe not quite? The title is, I think, a far-from-subtle hint at where we are, but there's more to it than meets the eye. If things are a little confusing at first, don't worry - they're supposed to be, and the answers are coming. ;)_

_I've been receiving some truly lovely feedback and I want to thank you again for doing this, it really puts a smile on my face and gets my creative juices going. Enjoy!_

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><p>There'd been a tornado, her mother had told her. Dorothy remembered a falling tree, too, though her parents had never mentioned that and when she did, father frowned in disgust and mother shrank back in some inexplicable fear. She stopped mentioning it, even though she couldn't get it out of her head. Maybe the tree had only been part of her nightmares, not an actual memory.<p>

Nightmares kept her constant company. Her world was small and confined, and so were her dreams, largely populated by the only two people she'd come in regular contact with. One of her recurring dreams was of her saving her parents from a broken branch threatening to crush them. Why it was a nightmare she couldn't have said, for surely them surviving was good news? Perhaps it was the end of the dream, the two pairs of eyes gazing at her from a cold, hostile darkness: her mother's pouring tears and her father's cold and framed by bushy brows furrowed with fury and repulsion. She'd wake up sweaty and trembling, and there'd be no more sleep those nights.

Dorothy hadn't always been unhappy. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to her to consider her fate an unlucky one while mother had still lived. Surely every family had their problems, right? So maybe her father was cold, maybe he saw a worthier object of affection at the bottom of a glass than looking at his daughter. Wasn't it normal for fathers to be a little stand-offish with their daughters anyway? Maybe if he'd had a son. Or if she tried harder.

Maybe it was her fault.

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><p>Mother had loved her. Then she was gone, and things changed.<p>

Father, well, he'd merely tolerated her - because of her mother, it turned out after she'd died and everything went from bad to worse. Dorothy tiptoed around him. She steered clear of him when he was too intoxicated or in too dark a mood. When he did suffer her around, her hunger for love and approval would surface in all kinds of desperate acts, little kindnesses and extra treats he never appreciated or even acknowledged. She even played barmaid to him, pouring one drink after another, and when she dared ask if he hadn't better stop now, the mildest response was an ugly glare. And that was when she hadn't done anything odd to provoke him.

Odd was unwelcome. It was wicked.

Dorothy could do things. More precisely, things happened to her, through her, without her having much say in the matter. Unnatural things. Hiding them had become second nature to her, although she was prone to failure often enough, especially when she was upset. Fear would make them come out, and on the rare occasion that anger over her unfair, twisted life got the best of her, Dorothy would lose control so badly she'd end up curled on the bed in the corner of her room. And she'd feel such tremendous guilt, such shame, such confusion. None of which she had anyone to talk to about.

Something was wrong with her. She would have done anything to change. She didn't know how.

Maybe it was all her fault.

Eventually, she'd rock herself to a restless sleep.

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><p>They had a ritual, one they'd indulged in ever since she was old enough to be trusted with a blade. <em>No, that's not true<em>. The chore had belonged to mother, but now she wasn't there anymore to do it, so Dorothy had taken over.

It was shaving day. Everything was prepared with special care. She could do this, he'd see. Perhaps she'd even earn herself a warm look after ages. Praise would be entirely too much to expect or even process. Perhaps a brief, barely audible thanks was something she could hope for if she did well and he was in a good mood.

His foam-covered face scrunched up as she approached it with the blade in hand. It always did. It didn't matter, because she'd give him no reason to today. He'd see. The blade was razor-sharp, its path slippery, and her hand so gentle for fear of causing him injury that it merely slid off the skin ineffectually on first stroke. She pressed gently, scraping off foam and stubble. No blood. Good. She risked a smile and a look at him.

His stare was icy and left absolutely no room for doubt: _I don't want you here._

Her hand slipped.

Her father yelped.

_Quick, something to clean him up with_. Dorothy snatched a kerchief from thin air. She hadn't been planning on it, she had merely needed one. The oddity in her seemed to respond to such impulses sometimes. Often. This time it had produced a handkerchief for her.

Her father yelled. The words he pelted her with stung like a hailstorm and left her soul bared and beaten.

The truth stared her in the face, finally revealed by the bland and brutal drunkard she'd called father all her life.

He wasn't her father after all. This man, this stranger, this pathetic drunk never wanted her. He never wanted the child his wife had so desperately desired to take in, but he'd agreed to it all the same. Perhaps it would've been better if he'd just refused to altogether.

It was time to leave. Where for, she didn't know. Just away from here.

Perhaps she could look for her family, find out why they'd done this to her.

Mothers didn't just abandon their babies. Something must have been wrong with her even then. No one wanted her.

It had always been her fault.

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><p><em>Who am I?<em>

She retrieved her pocket mirror, one of the few possessions she'd been attached to ever since she remembered, and also one of the very few things she'd taken with her when she'd finally left the house and her father - no, not her father - behind. She surveyed her reflection.

Her forehead was crinkled with emotion, a vein prominent under the skin - it had a way of doing that when some intense battle was raging inside her. Her mouth was set, and there was a small but striking scar above her upper lip. The crease in her forehead deepened. How had that scar gotten there? She must always have had it. Perhaps she'd been born with it, or got it when she was too small to remember. Before her adoptive parents took her in, maybe. Why hadn't she ever asked? Or had she?

With her eyes tightly shut, she ran her fingers through her hair. The carved handle dug into her skin as she clutched the mirror, staring at her reflection once again. Her hair was long, braided, black. Was it supposed to be black? Hadn't it been flashes of red in the mirror just the day before? Had it ever been red?

Nothing made sense anymore. She held the mirror at arm's length, almost overcome by the sudden urge to throw it, to watch it shatter to a million pieces. The world was being pulled from underneath her feet. Everything she'd known, or thought she'd known, was a fraud. Perhaps she was going crazy. Perhaps her powers were indeed wicked. Perhaps they would destroy her, drive her insane.

She stared at her reflection with wild eyes, scared of her own image, yet full of the desire to smash it at the same time. Her voice came out strange, much too dark and much too tearful, when she shouted her frustration into the looking glass and heard a broken sob instead.

"Who am I?"

The forest made no answer but the rustle of leaves; neither did the dark waters of the tumbledown well stir. She leaned over the stone rim and gazed into the depth. How deep down would she have to go to find answers? Were there out there, at the bottom of a well like this, real or figurative but certainly dark and desolate, not unlike her soul?

"Who am I?" she whispered into the abyss.

"Only you can decide that."

The honeyed voice had come from inches away. She whipped around, but there seemed to be no physical form attached to the sound. Was she hearing voices now?

"Wh- who are you?"

"Now that I can answer." The night shone white for a moment, and when it faded again, a white-clad woman stood before her. "My name is Glinda."

"The Good Witch of the South?" The Witch was legendary in Oz, of course, but hadn't been sighted in ages. For all anyone knew, she might as well be a mere legend.

"One and the same."

Glinda stepped closer, looking her over from head to foot, completely disregarding the concept of personal space. The uninvited closeness and the brazen look surely did nothing to spark much trust.

"They call me Dorothy," she said flatly, taking a step back. They did call her that - at least they had. But now the name, like everything else, had become strange and alien. It didn't seem to belong to her anymore. Even her own body wasn't what she remembered: the hair, the scar…the eyes. Weren't they different, too? Her throat constricted with a stifled cry. _Who the hell am I? _"I'm looking for my past. My real roots. Do you know anything?"

Her hands shot up as the words spilled over her lips, and wrapped around her torso in a self-hug.

Glinda tilted her head. "Oh, yes. And so do you."

"No, I don't. That's the problem."

"Indeed."

Was the damn witch mocking her? But there was such kindness in her tone and eyes both, now that she looked more closely.

"I don't understand."

"The memories are there. Closed away from your consciousness, but they exist. You wouldn't have noticed anything suspicious if they didn't."

"Like the hair. Or the scar." She touched a stray raven lock, then tucked it out of sight with an utterly irrational sting of anger. Glinda's forehead crinkled as she turned on her. "How do I remember?"

Glinda wasn't intimidated, though; she might look harmless but she didn't scare easily.

"The first thing you must ask yourself is: are you absolutely certain you _want_ to remember?"

"Why wouldn't I? It can't be worse than this, can it?" Glinda's wry smile sent shivers down her spine and a chill through her heart. Her grip on herself tightened as her exasperation ebbed away and gave way to anxiety instead. "Can it?"

"Again, only you can answer that."

"But to do that, I need to remember first!"

"Yes. It's a vicious circle," Glinda nodded. "There's no way back when you do." She recoiled as a white hand reached up to her cheek. The witch's fingers seemed to glow ever so faintly in the darkness. They were surprisingly cold. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Take tonight."

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><p>The rock cut and pressed into her skin, but she clung to it all the same.<p>

Glinda had disappeared and no matter how many times she called for her, there was no response, not even when she repeated the words that had worked as a password previously, the words that played over and over in her head like a broken record: _who am I, who am I, who am I…_ A broken record? What did that even mean? She shook her head, bit her lips, probed the mystery scar with the tip of her tongue.

Having no one to talk to, she addressed the clearing at large. "My whole life has been a lie. If my other self keeps resurfacing like this, it'll only drive me insane, unless I know why."

Glinda didn't seem too keen on helping her, or perhaps that was precisely her way of helping. Whatever she had lost must have been complicated at best. Even that other, forgotten part of her hadn't had a fairytale life, it would seem. Would the self-proclaimed witch respect her decision eventually? Was she merely being played? Glinda hadn't, after all, shown a single sign of her magical abilities. Unless you counted her sudden appearance, but many a trickster could perform similar sleights. Perhaps she could try her powers on this woman. If Glinda was indeed magical, surely she'd be no match for a confused girl who'd never been able to repress or control her own powers.

_Who am I, who am I, who am I…_

Her head buzzed with the mantra, the rhythm of which finally cradled her to sleep right there, curled up against the cold, hard forest floor.

And she dreamed, and it was unlike anything she'd dreamed before. When she woke, her head ached from having rested again the weathered stone of the well. She remembered nothing of the quickly flashing images rushing before her eyes. But she remembered words - words spoken to her. About her.

Child. My apprentice. My wife. Your Majesty. Evil witch. Madam Mayor. Mom.

She buried her face in her hands and felt the hot dampness of falling tears on her fingers.

* * *

><p>"I want whatever else there is of me," she declared without a waver in her voice once Glinda had reappeared along with the rising sun.<p>

The witch smiled. "Very well."

That was easy. Was it a trick? It almost seemed as if this was what the witch had wanted to hear all along, except it made no sense because Glinda had no reason to particularly care about her plight.

"Give me a hand," Glinda gestured, leaning over the well. "I'm not strong enough to do it alone."

That didn't bode very well, did it? "I- don't know how."

"That will sort itself out soon enough - more or less. Just focus your emotions on this. Use your desire to know."

She closed her eyes. There was no need to see as well as sense her failure. For the first time, someone was asking her to use her powers rather than repress them. The problem was, she knew nothing about how to properly do either. But she wanted to. She wanted to know everything there was to know.

A strange warmth seeped into - or from?- her fingertips, spread into her palms, and a flash of bright light sprung up at the back of her closed eyelids. Her hands weren't empty anymore. Something heavy was weighing down on her arms, large and rough once, but now the edges had been dulled by time, and frayed.

She looked at Glinda rather than the large book she was holding.

"Whenever you're ready," the witch nodded.

The book was indeed huge and thick, and ancient. The inscription on the cover was in some strange, exotic runic writing she'd never seen before. Yet the longer she looked, the more familiar the symbols seemed, and soon the words sprung out at her as if she'd always read Elvish: _The Book of Records_.

Biting her lip, she inserted her finger at a random spot between the yellowed pages and flipped the tome open.

The blast of knowledge she'd expected to occur like a candle flickering to life failed to come. Instead, she was a hollow vessel into which water began to trickle, gently first, slowly. Then memories were pouring back into her like a raging storm, filling her to the brim, threatening to overflow. She heard cries of pain, wails of loss, burning rage, cold anger, the poisonous sting of malicious words, concealed cries for help in the all-engulfing darkness, and an occasional rare spell of laughter - all without realising they were her own, that they were reoccurring now as she was reliving everything again.

It ended as abruptly as it had begun.

She was on he floor, her back against the cold well, and Glinda was crouching opposite, watching her face with sympathy and maybe a grain of anxiety.

No words came. Not just yet. So she just nodded: she remembered.

Glinda smiled.

"Welcome back, Regina."

* * *

><p>Regina sat on the edge of the well fingering the spine of the book. It was so much like Henry's. Perhaps the two were somehow related. Now wasn't the time to find out, however; there were more pressing matters to deal with. Because now she remembered who she was, and what she had lost.<p>

"Why couldn't you just have told me earlier?"

"It was essential for things to start sinking in before I intervened."

Of course it had been. All magic came with a price. The torture of the crisis of identity was likely just one small part of this particular price. Her work had only just begun, and there would still probably be hell to pay.

At least now it would be back to her own hell.

"Is this- It's Zelena's memories, her life I led here, isn't it?"

"Correct."

Regina recoiled. She and her sister had much in common - much more than either of them knew, or had known. Neither had anything to envy the other. No, this wasn't the time for outbursts of sisterly emotion either.

"This is not how the time warp was supposed to work. I was supposed to never have existed."

"You meddled with the ingredients," Glinda pointed out, "and the slippers did part of the job, too."

Oh, the baby. Of course. Regina had snatched it from harm's way. The spell must have been bastardised. The slippers, apparently, had done their job, even though she didn't quite understand which part of this mess that had been. The travel, for sure. Would she have been erased if she hadn't had the slippers, the way Zelena had planned? Or would she have survived in some other form, since the time portal had been tampered with? Either way, it didn't matter much.

It was time to focus on what needed to be done.

"So Zelena and I have switched places?"

"It would seem so, though I expect much has changed in the Enchanted Forest at this point."

"What must I do?"

"Retrieve the brain, the courage, and your heart. Then you'll be able to defeat Zelena."

Again. A nagging doubt registered somewhere at the periphery of her consciousness, a doubt that might have had something to do with the white magic this would undoubtedly call for. She'd produced it once, she'd have to find a way again.

"And when I have? Then what?"

"You'll return to Storybrooke. All of you."

"Henry?" Because in the end, he was always the one that mattered before anyone else. Yes, there were others Regina cared about: a certain outlaw, a certain princess… Those must have been swept by the time portal and ended up here, which meant they would return to Storybrooke with her. Henry was different, he'd never belonged to this world. Would he be safe, would she find him back home?

Glinda nodded, and Regina let out a breath and grinned. "It'll be as if this warp had never happened," Glinda explained, "but since it's not technically time travel, you'll all retain your memories of it."

No, it wasn't exactly time travel. It sounded more like an alternate universe of sorts. Weird, but better. This way she wouldn't have to worry about involuntarily changing a thing in the past and launching a massive chain reaction in the future.

"Can't you do it? Or help?" It was unlike her to ask for help. Regina'd always liked to take care of matters herself. But this she had little experience in. Being a hero was still new and sent jolts of panic through her stomach.

"Zelena stripped me of my powers. What I have left is far too little to be a threat to her or, indeed, much use to you. You felt it yourself: I barely have any warmth left in me, despite the remnants of light."

Regina traced the runes on the book cover absent-mindedly. How strange everything was: here was a good witch running out of white magic, and a once evil witch called to the rescue, a feat that would require that she fill herself with light instead of dark. Life had a strange sense of humour.

"I'll go straight away." She glanced down at her feet. Her shoes looked just as they always had in Oz, the same worn, peeling leather.

Glinda reached out, and the moment she did, the slippers materialised in her hands.

"One other thing, Regina," she withdrew the shoes as Regina made to take them. "The people you'll meet aren't the same people you'd once known. Their new lives have shaped them, and as far as they're concerned, the old ones had never existed. Keep that in mind."

Regina nodded slowly, an indistinct chill running through her. Was it possible that Snow wasn't Snow and Robin wasn't Robin in this twisted new world? How could they be anyone else?

Easy. Just a while ago, she'd been someone else. Even now, she wasn't the exact same Regina she'd been before walking a mile in Zelena's shoes.

Regina placed her feet into the ludicrous footwear. If this time warp could be undone, if that was what it took to get her family back, well then undo it she would.


	25. The Scarecrow

_So the Oz plot twist has so far been received well, thank you for the kind words. I can really use them extra, since this is my first AU of this kind. It's taking me a bit longer to feel my way around this part of the story, so bear with me - my current goal is to finish the story before S4 starts. In this chapter, the focus shifts to Robin, his story in this alternate universe, and, naturally, the Scarecrow makes a notable appearance. Enjoy!_

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><p>The forest was different here than any he had ever seen. Not that it looked any different, for it had trees and bushes and tangled undergrowth alright, which for most people was all a forest amounted to. Not so for Robin, who'd been living it, breathing it, for several years now. This forest was eerie in its unnatural silence. No birdsong, no scurrying of animal feet, not even the rustle of leaves in the breeze resounded in the deafening stillness.<p>

All the worse for him, for there was nothing to drown out his thoughts.

As he trudged through the thickets in an unwavering straight line rather than following winding paths, Robin of Locksley thought about his wife.

Theirs was a young marriage, preceded by a series of mishaps. It had started out like a scene cut out of a chivalric romance, except the actual reality of arranged marriages was anything but romantic. Marian had been promised to a man she despised, and Robin had happened to chance upon her at a crucial, life-changing moment as she was literally fleeing from the altar. Like the chivalrous knight he hadn't been, he'd decided to step up and save the supposed damsel in distress. Little had he known she'd be the one saving him in the end.

A smile tugged at his pursed lips as he remembered how…

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><p>…very shortly after the 'rescue', she'd called him out on on his cocksure bravado. For the next few weeks, Marian had travelled with Robin and his band of thugs - for in all fairness, they hadn't merited any kinder naming - and had come into the habit of ceaselessly pointing out his follies and lack of direction. Even then she'd had a strong sense of social justice, while Robin's, though he'd known he possessed it, had lain dormant by his own choice as a result of past disillusionment. Then one day her patience had run out and she was gone, and Robin, out of some silly defiance, did what he had never done before: he decided to steal from the queen.<p>

Not any queen, either. In this kingdom, they called her the Wretched Queen - but only the brave or reckless, and even those only in hushed whispers. Rumour had it her skin was green underneath the face powder, but if anyone had actually seen it, they didn't live to tell the tale. When Robin had first entered this kingdom, every mile travelled had brought more chills and cringes upon him. That was still true today, the shock had never really worn off. What houses, villages and towns there had been during King Leopold's reign had fallen into a state of disarray and disrepair. Mud cottages and straw huts were rising in hidden corners of forests, far from the highroads and the Green Knights' eyes. The thicker the forest, the better, for it offered more protection from simian air attacks. Robin had never believed the far-fetched tales of winged monkeys, tyrannical knights and a beggar folk, until he experienced the reign of terror firsthand.

Now he understood what misery was. Now he understood fear. What he didn't understand, however, was the utter resignation, the apathy, the stoic acceptance of their fate everyone had succumbed to. No one fought back. No one even entertained such a notion, not even in their wildest dreams. They said this queen was a sorceress, and even if that was untrue, she most definitely rubbed shoulders with the Dark One. The two together were a recipe for disaster.

This was the woman Robin of Locksley had set his mind on stealing from. Her knights were easy to bypass, great oafish ruffians with a commander that was quite the opposite, scruffy but cunning. Robin was strong and had a good head on his shoulders, so they were still no match for his stealthy approach. The magic was a different matter. It was everywhere, and despite him being a master of stealth, Robin set off more traps on his way in than he could even count. Yet by some miracle, a series of lucky chances and narrow escapes, he finally reached the vault in the depths of the castle - unnoticed.

The queen had hoarded riches beyond imagination: gold and precious stones piled up to the ceiling. Robin touched neither. He took what he'd come to be in awe of on his eventful way in: magic.

And it destroyed him.

The queen knew, and she waited. She let him escape unfollowed. When he reached the first village, he found it in ruins, only ashes and soot covering the ground where hodge-podge dwellings had stood hours before. Nothing else remained. Not a single smoking beam. Not a charred cornerstone. Not a soul. The same sight awaited him in the second village, and the third.

Robin understood. Sick with horror and racked by guilt, he turned back and retraced his escape route. Every village he passed, he stopped to take in the blood-curdling sight, letting the image burn into his memory forever. He replaced the accursed magical item and swore never to come near anything possessing the least sign of magical properties ever again.

He sought out Marian and told her everything, expecting condemnation and receiving compassion instead.

_Fight her_, Marian would say. _We couldn't possibly take her on and hope to win_, he'd reply. _Then let's find another way_, she'd say. And they did.

They stole, not from the castle, for it wasn't gems they were interested in. They stole from granaries and from noblemen's kitchens, they stole from tax collectors, but mostly they foraged on the royal fields, in the orchards and the forests. There were only a handful of them, for most of his thuggish mates had refused to share booty with the poor. The decent ones stayed - half a dozen people trying to make a spot of a difference, spark a little boost of morale, a grain of discord - maybe, someday, an uprising. They weren't getting far. They weren't even feeding that many people. Their reach was small, but it was better than nothing, and Robin had found his way to a better him. And he'd finally found, really found, Marian, whom he married not long after.

He only had Marian now. Their friends had been killed, Little John and Friar Tuck and Alan-a-Dale, Much the Miller's Son and Will Scarlet - every one of them. The Sheriff of Nottingham had hunted them down one by one, with the help of the Wretched Queen and her minions. The bastard was still looking for Marian, and Robin had sworn he'd never find her. They were constantly on the move, Robin barely sleeping for fear of being discovered in the dead of night. They'd been eluding the bad for months.

But it wasn't enough. There were things he couldn't protect her from.

It had come unexpected, crept its way into her, and begun eating away at her without anyone noticing. By the time the first symptoms appeared, it had been doing its horrid work for weeks, maybe months, the healer had said. This was the wasting disease, and to cure it was beyond his, or anyone's, powers. The best he could offer was to buy Marian more time, but the treatment would be experimental and expensive. Still, they tried it. Still, Marian's decline didn't slow. Each new day saw her worse than the day before.

* * *

><p>And so here he was now.<p>

Robin marched across the untamed wilderness surrounding the Dark Castle, his fist clenched, ready to throw a punch - except there was no one to throw it at. He'd sworn not to turn to magic ever again, sworn not to meddle with it, and his stomach clenched at the unimaginable consequences this magical intervention might bring. But there were values and there were priorities, and those he loved came first, before everything and anything was his last chance, his only chance. Marian's only chance. He was going to give it to her, no matter how high the price. And with the Dark One, the price would always be steep.

The walls of the castle loomed above him, tall and imposing. Walls didn't intimidate him. Other things did. The price of magic - he was here despite it. The loss of love - he was here to salvage it.

The door was dark wood, dark handle, cold and hostile. Robin pushed on it and it gave in with a creak. No obstacles. The Dark One seemed to welcome guests. Did that bode well? Probably not, but it made no difference.

Robin crossed the musty hall and followed the filthy green carpet into a large chamber dominated by a spinning wheel. The Dark One wasn't there - unless he was invisible, which was, of course, a possibility. A chair scraped the floor and moved as though pulled by an invisible hand, prompting Robin to take a seat. He paced the chamber instead, taking all of it in.

They said the Dark One had many uncanny abilities, and at least one of the hearsays seemed to be true. The spinning wheel stood ready for use, indeed seemed to have been abandoned just prior to Robin's arrival. Piles of straw lay on the floor on its one side, skeins of golden thread on the other. The spinning wheel appeared to be the only object not covered in a thick coat of dust. The Dark One wasn't a stickler for cleanliness, and there was no sign of a domestic, neither maid nor valet. The books in the shelves had been untouched for weeks, if not months or even years. Wax drippings covered the table and a sickly-sweet stink issued from the moth-eaten curtains. In the darkest corner, Robin discovered another generous pile of straw. Either Rumplestiltskin was intending to fill his halls floor to ceiling with gold, or else he was stuffing a large amount of oversized furniture.

Robin examined a tea set in the cupboard: spotless white porcelain with a blue pattern and gold rim, untarnished and bearing an air of sterility, as if the cups had never been used. Perhaps they hadn't been, much like most everything else around here. Unlike everything else, however, there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere near the fragile china. What could be so special about a bunch of cups and a teapot? Curious despite himself, Robin reached towards the cabinet.

"A nosy one, aren't you?"

Robin spun round to the sound of shrill cackle that followed the words.

The Dark One looked and sounded nothing like he'd imagined. A scrawny man with large bulging eyes and a flaky complexion the texture of snake skin or so many tiny leaves of gold, he was baring his teeth at Robin in a malevolent, black-toothed grin. He didn't mind being looked up and down - on the contrary, he seemed quite amused.

"Rumplestiltskin," he rolled the name with a smirk, a bow and flourish. His hands seemed to have a life of their own.

"Robin of Locksley."

"Ah. But of course." Now it was Robin's turn to be looked up and down.

"You know me?" If Robin's identity was known to the Dark One, it was reasonable to assume it was known to the queen as well. It might be wiser to leave the kingdom once they were done here, at least for a time. If only Marian would listen…

"I know of you. Not a fan of our queen, are you?" The imp giggled, adding a skittish little bounce.

Well, that certainly was something of an understatement. There was no point pretending, and Robin wasn't inclined to try either.

"The queen is hard to like."

"She's a deplorable abomination," Rumplestiltskin chanted.

"Then why do you serve her?"

Robin was treading on glass now. Not only was he butting into the Dark One's business, uprooting the power pyramid of this delicate situation, in which he was very much at Rumplestiltskin's mercy, but he'd also implied the Dark One was no more than one of the queen's servants.

The imp's face darkened, the pupils of his eyes dilated. He beckoned Robin closer with a shaky gesture. The whites of his eyes had disappeared completely, as did the irises. Blackness spread over the eyeballs that threatened to pop any second, and his mouth twisted into a gruesome grin - no, a grotesque grimace.

Robin was looking into the face of a madman.

"She has leverage over me," the madman croaked. "Something powerful. And someone important." Rumplestiltskin brandished a fresh red rose in Robin's face - the only thing fresh and savoury in the stuffy, mouldy room. "I guess you could say I'd lose my mind. Oops - too late."

He plunged a finger in his ear, pushing deeper and deeper until the last knuckle-bones disappeared from sight. After a lot of twisting and wiggling, he pulled it out again, along with a bunch of straw. He studied the dull yellow clumps for a while, turning them over in his hand, then let them fall to the ground with a shrug.

"I'm not the first person with no brains you encounter, Robin of Locksley, yet I suppose I'm something of a shock because my impairment is visible to the eye. Let me give you a piece of mind here: it's best not to go with the eyes sometimes. Find some other organ to lead your steps."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, you'll figure it out in time. Now let's talk about your affairs, dearie."

"I come to ask your help for my wife." Robin's voice threatened to hitch as he finally uttered his plea. That was the one thing he hadn't prepared himself for. He braced himself - it wouldn't be clever to show himself even more vulnerable than he clearly was already. "She's taken ill. Healers cannot help her."

"And you thought maybe magic could."

It sounded like a dare, a challenge to let on his need, almost as if the man knew about Robin's qualms about magic. Robin had his thoughts and priorities sorted out, though: Marian first, even if he had to cross all other boundaries he normally moved within. If that included use of magic, then so be it, he was prepared to do it.

"Can it?"

"Yes and no."

"Speak clearly. I will pay any price."

"Of course you will, dearie. I'll help you, but on my own terms. Your wife doesn't have long to live."

"But you can change that." Robin held a shaky breath at what had been a plea far more than a statement.

"Maybe I can steal some time for her."

That wasn't quite what Robin wanted to hear. Was it just an unfortunate choice of words, a pun meant to sting, or was Rumplestiltskin just being evasive on purpose?

"So… you'll heal her," he proptemd again, trying not to let his desperation show too badly - and most likely failing miserably.

The imp's eyes changed for a brief moment, his mocking grin falling just a tad. He looked more human than ever. It scared Robin out of his wits, because if his misery was enough to make the Dark One feel an ounce of pity, then it could only mean the task was-

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Death has set its sights on her, it's tasted her already, and it's too deep in not to finish the meal."

Robin utter a choked cry. This couldn't possibly be happening.

"What I offer," Rumplestiltskin continued, and Robin made himself take a breath and then another one and another while he struggled to shut out the rising sense of doom and keep listening, "is your son's life. Yes, the child your wife is carrying is a boy. He'll be born healthy. His mother will die shortly afterwards."

A boy. They were having a baby boy. But Marian, his Marian…

Anger flared up in him, all the anger he'd been keeping under a lid for so long. His rage was reserved for the queen's minions, for small robberies and for fixing little injustices. The glaring injustice of Marian's sickness had been driving him crazy, so he'd learnt to push it to the darkest, most hidden corner of his heart and keep it there. Now, however, it came bursting forth.

"That's it?" he stormed. "Even with your best effort, she has a few months at most?" Before he allowed himself to think,Robin snatched the bow off his shoulders, nocked an arrow, and took aim.

Rumplestiltskin waved his wrist lazily, and Robin found he had all but frozen, unable to move so much as a toe.

"Such is the nature of life, Robin of Locksley," the imp said dryly. "You came asking for a way to cheat death. Magic can do much, but not that." He pointed at Robin's bow and arrow. "You realise of course I could have killed you on the spot for that reckless show of stupidity. Now, be reasonable. There's no helping your wife. I'm offering you the chance to buy your son's life."

Robin licked his lips - his face was one thing he did still have control over despite the magic paralysing him. It was too much to process all at once. But time was of the essence. He needed to make a decision, and he needed to make one now. There wasn't really much to think about, once the reality of Rumplestiltskin's words sank in. If he didn't take the offer, Marian would die soon, and their baby with her. If he did take it, she'd die anyway, but not until a few months later, and their child would be alright. No, there was nothing to consider here.

"I accept your offer."

"Wise decision, dearie." Rumplestiltskin crossed a room to an ancient cabinet and disappeared behind the open doors, then emerged with a vial filled to the stopper with a mint-green liquid. "Just a drop will do the trick, once a day."

Rumplestiltskin waved his hand, finally freeing Robin from the awkward position. Robin struggled to stand upright, his limbs still stiff, and took the vial with shaky fingers.

"Now, to the price. A little warm-up question, if you don't mind. What did you dream last night?"

Robin was prepared for this. For years, Rumplestiltskin had been asking all his supplicants this very question. No one knew why, they simply assumed it was an eccentricity of his. He expected an honest answer, but beyond that, any dream, no matter how dull or wild, would be dismissed with the same bitter disappointment.

"I dreamt of my wife," Robin said truthfully. "And the child she's carrying. Our boy." In his dream, Marian had been cradling the small bundle, singing to it softly, while Robin tickled the baby's fluffy head with his thumb. Nothing much had happened, yet the dream had been everything, all he wished for his family - and would never have.

"Was that all?" Rumplestiltskin dismissed his dreaminess without a hint of consideration - and in a way that was all for the best.

"No. No, that wasn't all. I have this recurring dream." Robin gave a small cough. He hadn't talked about this before, not even to Marian. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with the dream, anything he should feel guilty about. It just left him in an emotional upheaval he couldn't quite account for, so he preferred to keep it to himself. "It returns almost every night. I don't remember when it first started."

"Tell me about this dream."

"There's this…woman. She's surrounded by shadows, but when she moves there's a shimmery white light shining through. I can't see her face, only the glistening eyes and the billowing hair. She keeps asking for her heart back."

Rumplestiltskin's mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and for a moment Robin thought the imp was mocking him, but then the anxious jitter of his hands told him otherwise. The imp actually looked captivated. Robin hesitated. Even just recounting the dream was dragging him into that peculiar state of unrest, that strange wanting it'd always leave him with. The Dark One wasn't exactly the person Robin felt comfortable confiding in. So he stuck to the facts, trying to stay aloof, uninvested.

"I tell her I don't have it, but she insists. I turn out my pockets to show her there's nothing, and she points at my chest." Robin swallowed, his chest tingling. This was but a faint reminder of the burning sensation that invariably accompanied this part of the dream, the moment she'd stand with her arm raised and her finger pointing straight at his heart. "For a moment I think she's asking to use mine." For a moment, before the strangeness of such thought would register, he'd almost wish he could give it to her, she'd sound so sad and vulnerable. That, however, was definitely a sentiment he wasn't sharing with the Dark One. "There's a leather satchel hanging around my neck," he said instead, "and a real, beating heart in it. It's strange but somehow not scary. Warm and glowing red with just a touch of shadows cast over it. I hand her the heart and she reaches for it. Our fingertips touch - and then she disappears. I hear a sob - just one - and I wake up."

Much to his disappointment. No answers. And she'd take that soft but radiant shimmer of light with her, too.

Suddenly, sharing even the bare story with Rumplestiltskin had become unbearable, so much so that his very stomach turned

Rumplestiltskin wasn't helping, either. His mouth had finally closed, but the hungry glint in his eyes was new and most unwelcome.

"The stakes have been raised," he sang. "You have your serum. In return, I ask for a favour. Do it, and the debt is all paid."

"What is it you'd have me do?" Would the price of magic require him to compromise all his beliefs and principles? Would he be asked to commit some terrible deed? Perhaps even in the name of the queen?

"There are realms beyond the one we live in, as I'm sure you're aware." Rumplestiltskin paused, and Robin nodded - he had heard word of other realms, had once found the idea of world-jumping intriguing. "There's a girl in one of these realms crossing to our land shortly - perhaps she's even here already. Find her. Help her on her quest. Who knows, you might even find your interests coincide." The imp giggled and did a weird little excited finger dance.

"The purpose of this quest?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

"Then why ask my assistance?"

"What good reason could a brainless man give?"

Wonderful. This was getting fishier by the minute. But it was his price, and it was actually a price he felt he could pay - provided this woman from another realm didn't prove to be another evil witch.

"Very well. I'll do it. Under one condition."

"You're not in a position to negotiate, dearie."

"If I'm to leave my pregnant wife to help some stranger do who knows what," Robin said firmly, "I'm fine with it only as long as I know the serum is keeping Marian alive - and that she's also being kept safe."

"You want me to protect her from the sheriff and the queen." The imp considered. "That can be arranged."

"We have a deal, then."

"Yes, yes, we do. I'm brainless indeed, to have agreed to such terms. But alas, that just goes to show. I've already done an awful lot of talking for a man without brains. Go now."

Rumplestiltskin made an impatient little gesture towards the door, and Robin didn't need to be told twice to get out of this sombre, obnoxious environment. Checking on the vial and finding it safely tucked behind his belt, he hurried off, his only wish being to be by Marian's side again as soon as possible. In the door, however, he turned back.

"This girl I'm to search for," he'd remembered, "how will I know it's her?"

"Oh, you'll know."


	26. The Tin Woodman

_I'm still alive! This should have been updated a while ago but unfortunately due to ongoing health issues I haven't been able to write half as much as I'd like to. Cheers if you're still hanging in there and enjoy the chapter!_

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><p>The lake couldn't be too far away now. He'd never ventured into these parts of the kingdom before, and what people had lived in the villages along the roads once had long since withdrawn from such an easy target to beasts and men alike. There was no one to ask for directions, but he'd been doing reasonably well on his own.<p>

His pockets were light - he didn't need much besides his bow and arrows, a water skin and a little food.

His heart was weighing him down.

Marian had been taking the serum for several days by the time Robin had finally found the resolve to leave her behind. The fatigue had subsided somewhat and she'd been in better spirits, too. When he'd laid his hand on her belly and felt the baby's first kick the night before departure, a lump rose in his throat and a dry sob escaped him. He hid it behind a cough and hoped she'd not seen through it, but the kiss she placed on the top of his head told him otherwise. _I'll be fine_, she assured him, _our boy will be with me_. He held her at night, a hand gently placed over her growing bump, and wished that morning never came.

But it had come, and he'd left, and ever since then he'd been roaming the land, looking for this mystery girl he was supposed to put himself in the service of. Blundering through the landscape aimlessly was draining the last of his morale. Not only did he not know who he was looking for, he also didn't know where to look. The imp hadn't even said anything about this kingdom. There'd only ever been talk of this _world_. Their entire world. Dozens of kingdoms, vast wastelands and spacious seas. Finding a needle in a haystack was child's play compared to Robin's quest.

Driven by desperate hope and a wild urge to do something purposeful, his steps had taken a different direction recently.

Lake Nostos was fabled to possess powerful restorative properties. What magic would it be if it couldn't restore Marian's health? _I tried that before, and it didn't work._ Yes, one gloomy night had seen Robin breaking out of a Green Knight's treasury with an emerald the size of an egg. It would bump against his thigh all the way to the secret meeting point, where it would change pockets, and a dusty old bottle of murky water would take the gem's place. Marian would have to reach for her last reserves to bring herself to drink it. Then she'd go back to the same heavy, feverish sleep - unrelieved, unchanged.

Not this time. This time he'd make sure she had plenty, a bottle a day if possible. Perhaps it would help.

The Dark One had said nothing could.

It could have just been malice or greed speaking.

In the darkest, remotest corner of his heart, the voice of reason crouched banished, for Robin couldn't bear facing the sad, ugly truth it spoke.

"You're not my Marian."

He knew that, he could feel it in his heart.

The woman'd been pale blonde seconds before, with gaping black tunnels for eyes and a voice sweet enough to charm a nightingale. Now her hair was dark and her arms inviting, snaking around his shoulders and coaxing him towards her.

Something strange was happening to him, something unnatural. As the vile enchantment draped him in an invisible net, his heart kept chiming in resistance. But it was no good. The Siren talked and talked, she talked of elopements and wedding nights and sweet moments he'd shared with Marian, she returned sweet nothings to him that had been for his wife's ears only, and Robin didn't know past from present anymore. The Siren sang and sang, she sang of dimpled sons and healthy wives and the grey-haired autumn of their lives, and Robin didn't know dream from reality anymore.

The knife fell from his hand and landed in the lake with a splash.

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><p>Ever since she had her real memories back, ever since she knew she'd be returning to the Enchanted Forest, Regina'd been wondering if she'd see him. Trudging through the forest, she'd been ever on the lookout for a whizzing arrow, or for that deep melodic voice, or his smirking face behind the next tree. When she finally did stumble upon him, it was nothing like she'd imagined it would be.<p>

As she pushed through the last scratchy branches on the edge of the forest, Lake Nostos came into view, a sweeping stretch of landscape to her thicket-tired eyes. Regina let out a deep breath. Glinda had warned her things wouldn't be the way she'd known them, and Regina had been half-prepared for the end of her journey to reveal that its destination didn't even exist in this universe. Yet here it was, just as it used to be: a rippling body of water amid a dead, abandoned countryside.

_Splash_.

Regina stumbled forward, craning her neck, straining her eyes.

_Splash_.

A blurry shape of tangled limbs twisted and twitched, dragging itself deeper into the water, yet at the same time struggling for the shore.

_Splash_.

Regina broke into a run, her heart - not that she had one, at least not on her - beating in overdrive. Legends of a siren had always been aplenty, and Regina had prepared for the encounter; it was the unfortunate victim that was making her heart race. She was too far away, much too far away to see, but somewhere deep down she still knew. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her cheek. She was getting closer, she could tell the struggling figures apart now: one with dark, billowy hair, the other broad-shouldered as ever in his green tunic.

_Splash_.

They disappeared from sight but the water whirled and churned where they'd fallen. He was still fighting, and that was good. Almost there now. The entwined bodies emerged from the lake once more, sending jets of water flying in arcs and landing with a splash, blocking Regina's view. Any second now, it might be too late. Any second now, the struggling pair could go under again, and it would be too late for her to do what she was about to do.

Regina willed her legs to keep running and her heart to stay within her ribcage as it hammered against it in a wild stampede. A blast of magic issued from her palm and rushed forward with the force of a cannon ball. It wouldn't hurt them, she couldn't possibly risk that with them so close together and so fidgety. But it would immobilise them both just long enough for her to get there.

_Splash_.

The lake swallowed them again, and this time, stunned by Regina's magic, they wouldn't reemerge without help. Her muscles burnt with the effort, every breath seared in her lungs, and her side throbbed in a painful stitch, but it was nothing compared to the horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. As she finally reached the shore, the water had already closed over them, leaving no evidence of the struggle except for a slight ripple and a floating patch of green linen.

All was quiet.

A desperate cry escaped her as she dashed into the waves. Up to her knees, her things, her waist. Still, she saw nothing. Her eyes burnt but there was no time for that now. He was right there, no more than a few steps away, and she needed to find him - now. _Where are you?_ Regina reached and reached under the surface, grasping nothing but water and more water. _Robin, please!_ Her chest constricting, she fought for air and dove under, reaching, searching, grabbing. Water. Weeds. Sand. And then-

A sob escaped her and water rushed into her mouth, making her cough and sputter. She yanked at the fistful of fabric and pulled and pulled until she broke the surface, gasping for air. She struggled some more, and the tip of his bow emerged. Regina dug her feet into the muddy bottom and jerked him upwards, until his head was finally above water.

He didn't stir. He wasn't supposed to just yet, the spell was still in effect. What if it wasn't just the freezing spell though? His head bobbed from side to side as she dragged him ashore, his body leaving a deep track in the sand as she made sure they were far enough for the wretched siren to never harm him again.

Regina cried out his name, but what came out was barely a groan.

Breathless, she turned him around.

It was him. Of course it was him. She'd known all along, even when he'd been no more than a dot on the far shore of the lake. Now she was holding his rigid body in her arms, and this wasn't at all the way things should be. It took all of her to hold it together. For a moment, she thought she might fall apart.

Then her survival instinct kicked in. Regina knew how to give CPR, she'd taken a first aid course just before she'd adopted Henry. As she pressed her mouth against Robin's, her stomach clenched - he was so cold, as if all warmth had been drained from him. Thankfully, she had more than first aid skills at her disposal.

She'd known she'd need it eventually to fulfil this mission, but she'd never expected it to be so soon. _Please, let it work_. As she closed her eyes and tried to recall that warm, fuzzy place inside her right before she'd performed light magic for the first time, Regina became painfully aware of the water trickling down Robin's face and onto her lap. That wasn't what she needed now, not his blue lips and slashed forearm.

Smiles. Hugs. Faith. Hope. Light.

Warmth surged through her. Her palms tingled. Regina raised her hands over Robin's chest and watched streams of white light soak into him. A smile tugged at her lips - she was doing it! Her arms ached with the effort, and the longer it took, the more she felt fatigue grow within her. The more doubts began to gnaw at her. Shouldn't he be stirring already?

She glanced from her hands to his face and gasped.

Pale and bleary-eyed but definitely conscious, Robin was looking right back at her.

* * *

><p>"Don't talk," she'd ordered, her voice firm and shaky both, and he obeyed.<p>

He remained quiet because she'd asked, and obeying was the least he could do for someone he owed his life to. He remained quiet because the encounter with the deceptive lake creature had left his chest heavy with denied breaths and forced embraces, false images and a pain much too real. He remained quiet because he wouldn't know what to say to this woman, not when his head had rested on her lap and he'd felt life return to him by those healing hands, and not now as he watched her tend to the scratches and wound he'd sustained.

Robin hissed as she daubed a foul-smelling poultice onto one of the deeper cuts.

"I'm sorry," she winced as if she'd felt the sting, too.

Their eyes locked. Hers were brown and deep, and glimmered peculiarly. Before he had the chance to notice more, she turned back to his scratches, dabbing away with touches so light he could barely feel them. As his still blurry vision began to clear up, he caught the curl of her pursed lips, the twitch and droop of the corners of her mouth. Her dark braid, so long it fell all the way down her back to the waist, dripped water, and a few loose strands clung to her face and neck. _She must have dove all the way in for me_.

Robin searched for her eyes again, but they were hidden behind her eyelashes. What was it he'd seen there? Would it still be there next time? For some reason, it seemed like a mystery to uncover, and a strange urge stirred in him to sit up and look at that face.

He swallowed down another groan as she touched his injured arm - she was being as gentle as she possibly could.

"Almost done," she said softly but didn't look up. "Only the gash left."

It was deeper than the others, and a few stitches might even do it good. He nodded. She must have been watching from the corner of her eye, because she retrieved a flask from her satchel and poured its contents over the wound.

Robin clenched his fists as the alcohol burned its way in. Once the pain subsided a little, he became aware of her fingers gripping his wrist, and as he opened his eyes, he found hers fixed on his face. There was such concern written over her features, and, yes, that strange glistening in the corners of her eyes.

Like before, she turned away the moment she became aware of his searching look.

Robin looked away. Why did he keep staring at her so blatantly? What was he hoping to find in her eyes, on her face? It was a beautiful face, now that he came to think about it. Stunning, even.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of almost drowning.

"I'm not very good with a needle," she admitted. "I'll do my best, though." It glistened between her fingers as she placed the sharp, pointy end against his skin. "Just don't wiggle if you care to keep your arm," she added with a sideways glance, the corners of her mouth upturned in a half-grin.

Robin chuckled. The strangest thing happened: her almost-smile spread into a full, radiant one.

Her hands shook a little as she approached the flesh with the needle, but once she got to it, she became calm and her hands steady.

Robin eventually forgot about the pain, watching her face, which was now a mask of pure concentration. There was something intriguing about her, and perhaps it was because he did owe her, or perhaps it was the way her eyes seemed so very eloquent - so eloquent she chose to avert them as soon as emotion threatened to surface in them. It made him want to see more. There was nothing extraordinary about wanting to get to know someone who'd selflessly helped a person, after all.

"Done."

He stirred from his thoughts. Indeed, where there'd been a gaping cut was now a row of fairly neat stitches. Half of the time he hadn't even known a needle was being driven through his flesh. Aftermath of almost drowning? Or did she really have a healing hand, even without magic? It had been magic she'd used to bring him around, surely. Was she a sorceress? For all he knew, she could well be. Yet there was no wariness in him, no unease at all.

"Thank you, milady. I owe you my life."

She stiffened and took a while to answer, in a constrained voice: "You owe me nothing."

Her eyes lingered on his tattoo for the briefest moment, but he might just have imagined it. Then she pulled the sleeve down over the bandage.

There'd been a definite finality to the gesture, and if he'd had any doubt, the way she turned her attention from him to the satchel was enough confirmation. Where he came from, a simple "not at all" would suffice. Why she would be so adamant yet somehow tense about his thanks was a mystery to him.

"I disagree. But I'm afraid my quest amounted to exactly that. Nothing."

She stopped the rummaging but remained bent over the satchel's contents. "You mean for the water? I'm afraid so. But it's not why you think it is."

"I failed, the siren got the best of me." And now even that tiny, unlikely grain of hope of healing Marian was gone. No, not gone. Further away. But once he recovered from his failed attempt, there was nothing to stop him from trying again if-

"There was nothing to be gained by defeating her." Her voice softened and she glanced at him in passing. "It's a sham. This water has no magical properties."

"But they say-"

"It used to be true once, but not anymore. I can tell."

The universe seemed hellbent on robbing him of this slim chance altogether.

"What happened to it? A curse? A trick? Someone dried it up and replaced it with ordinary water?" This made no sense whatsoever, and one option sounded more absurd that the other. Yet there had to be an explanation.

"It's a possibility. Shows a wicked sense of humour."

"Well, damn."

How it had happened didn't matter after all. For him, it meant the end of hope - the same hope he'd known deep down had been futile this entire time. Still, it had given him something to do, some sense of purpose in the face of Marian's illness as well as the impossible task of locating an anonymous traveller through magical worlds just by pure luck. His luck had been on the run-out lately.

Hadn't he just been pulled out from the lake by a complete stranger barely an hour ago? That was something to be grateful for, regardless of all the plight his family was going through.

He watched his benefactor slip the empty flask into the satchel and tuck the loose hair behind her ears, her eyes cast down all the while. As if too much was being revealed if she only as much as looked at him. Too much of what, exactly?

"I'll be good as new tomorrow. Perhaps by then you can think of a way for me to repay you."

* * *

><p>Regina stoked the fire and watched the sparks dancing and swirling on the black backdrop of the night, glowing flecks rising towards the sky until each died out long before they could ever reach the heights they'd striven for.<p>

Robin's frame was clearly etched against the darkness, the flames drawing the outline of his body orange. It was unwise to stare. What if he noticed? But he was asleep. By daylight, it had taken all of her to avoid his eyes, and even then she'd sneak a peek now and again. Indeed, perhaps she was trying too hard, perhaps not looking would be even more conspicuous than looking once in a while. The danger didn't lie in meeting his eye, though. It lay in gazing too steadily, with too much longing, too much pain. Too much love.

She loved him.

If only she'd had the guts to tell him when there had still been time - though there hadn't been much anyway. But the truth was she hadn't known, hadn't realised, hadn't acknowledged the depth of her own feelings until it was too late, and then he was slipping away from her once again. Swept away by a curse. Swallowed by a time portal. And now, unreachable.

_The people you'll meet aren't the same people you'd once known. Their new lives have shaped them, and as far as they're concerned, the old ones had never existed._

Never existed. _They_ had never exited.

Tears stung in her eyes, and Regina averted her gaze from Robin's sleeping form, struggling to find some other, safer line of thought.

Fortunately, there was plenty to consider.

Curious, the way things had been unravelling. Zelena most likely didn't know just how beneficial - to Regina, of course - the meddling with her time portal had been. Regina hadn't been erased from ever existing as Zelena had planned for her to be, but had taken Zelena's place instead. It was a sordid, forlorn place. It didn't actually differ much from what Regina had grown up in. Yes, in her life there'd never been poverty, or the stirrings of magic she didn't know what to do with. But she did know the debilitating effect addiction could have, and the abuse at the hands of one parent, while the other barely had it in them to step up against it. Zelena's life had been different yet disturbingly familiar.

What had Zelena made of Regina's life, though? The life that she'd so desperately desired? Had she discovered for herself what Regina had noticed even in Storybrooke - that they shared more than blood, even though appearances might initially belie this? Was Zelena on the verge of casting the Dark Curse like Regina once had? Or had her life veered into new directions? The king was dead, Regina'd heard so much. The queen was feared and despised. Snow White had been cast out. So far, not much change.

Then there was the desolate landscape. Regina had been avoiding towns, and it was surprisingly easy to do - there hardly seemed to be any left. Misery was everywhere she looked. Even her own reign of terror had never stricken the kingdom in such blatant ways. In her time, economy had been good, peasants had food and shelter and indeed, freedom to do as they pleased as long as they didn't insist on foolishly defying their queen. Now, not so much. But who was she to judge?

Robin uttered a small sigh and a few jumbled words she didn't catch. Regina moved over and leaned over him. He was fast asleep, dreaming. Of her? Of the other her. Perhaps there was no her.

Regina tore her eyes from Robin's face and returned to her place by the fire. She was being nonsensical. Of course there was a Marian, and there should be. But her life was in danger, it had to be. If Robin had travelled all the way here to retrieve healing water, it must have been for her. Marian was already being slowly pried away from him by a dreadful illness. He was doing all he could to stop it, to reverse it, to keep his hold on her, but she was slipping away anyway. Robin's heart was breaking - not all at once, like hers had over the sudden, shocking loss of Daniel; but crack after agonising crack as he knew the end was drawing near yet was unable to stop it.

Regina's vision clouded, reducing the flames to a blurry play of reds and oranges.

_I wish I could take away your pain._

But he didn't know that. He had no idea how much Regina yearned to push the hair back from his forehead or just to hold on to his hand for a moment, to offer the warmth of her embrace. She did neither.

Somewhere, maybe, Zelena was cackling happily at the sight of Regina's heart contorting in agony.

* * *

><p>He lay motionless for heavens only knew how long before she noticed he was awake, staring at the sky with hollow eyes. There was no sign of that twinkle she was used to seeing there.<p>

"Are you unwell?"

"Can't complain, milady. Just thinking." He pushed himself up on his elbows with a groan, and she fought an urge to reach out and help him like she would have done once. "Ah, but you - you haven't slept a wink."

Even in this world he didn't know her in, he still knew. Even here, there was that note of interest and care in his voice. Regina swallowed back the lump rising in her throat.

"May I hope you've given my words some thought? How do I repay your kindness?"

_I'm on a quest - help me? Travel with me? Let me watch you while you sleep because it's too risky by daylight but I can't quite resist looking? (Just watch you. Never run my hand over your cheek, the soft and the prickly of the touch so very familiar. Just watch, and remember.) Come with me, as a friend, though in two other realms we used to be something else besides that?_

The wise thing would be to tell him to go his own way. If he was anything like the Robin she'd known, he'd never let the debt go unpaid, though. Before she could make up her mind, he chimed in again.

"Perhaps I could accompany you?"

Regina's heart skipped a beat. This was entirely too much: the proposal, the curiously tilted head and that searching - but not prying, never prying - look. Her first instinct was flight. _Again_.

"You don't even know where I'm headed."

"I don't even know where I'm headed."

It would have been a joke once. It would have been a joke now, if he'd managed to pull it off as intended. Instead, it'd turned bitter mid-sentence, running truer and deeper than expected. Deeper, because it suggested his entire life, a future he couldn't envision with his one constant being at threat. This was a different Robin from the one she'd known, an almost broken one, holding on because his wife still needed him. He was different in a way more painful than Regina could ever be ready for. Darker. Sadder. Was this what it had been like when Marian was dying? Or was this the result of something else, something new, a courtesy of Zelena's spell?

The hollowness was returning to his eyes even as he began to slip away again.

It had been her once, in the Enchanted Forest, grieving over a loss she could never recover from. They'd barely known each other a day then and yet he'd refused to let her give in to the desperation that had been driving her to the brink of ultimate surrender. He'd been intent on snatching her back from the abyss the Sleeping Curse would have allowed her to plummet to.

Now it was him plummeting into desperation. They'd only known each other a day, or so he believed, and she refused to let him give in to it.

Yet what could she do? Words would be no good here, she knew only too well no number of words could do anything to quench the rushing torrents of pain that threatened to engulf him. She'd seen what looks could do, knew the power of silent support, soft touches or tight embraces. But here, in this world, she wasn't entitled to any of those, wasn't entitled to offer them to him. Regina pushed back the dry sob, the heavy sigh breaking to the surface. It was time to stop despairing over what she couldn't do and find something she could do instead.

A distraction, perhaps. As it happened, there was a pragmatic question or two she sought the answer to as well. Perhaps those would do to take his mind off things for a bit - and if not, well, they were none the worse for it.

"Tell me about the- queen." Because in this universe, Regina wasn't her. Zelena was. The thought still stirred up a mess of emotions in her, but none of them came anywhere close to envy.

Robin didn't respond for a moment, but a quiet scoff revealed that he'd heard her request after all.

"You're not from here," he said finally, the implication clearly being that if she were, she wouldn't need to ask. Something stirred in his eyes, and he sat up straighter with a groan that made Regina wince. "Where do you come from, milady?"

This was him: for the first time, she really saw a flicker of the Robin she knew, all in that intense, searching look, a look she'd once called prowling and invading because once she hadn't been able to accept it for what it had always been - curious, yes, but also caring, willing to see beyond appearances to the core of things. Oh, the number of times he'd looked at her like this! The countless things he'd seen, too… None of which he remembered now, because this Robin had never seen them.

"Far way. A different world," she said lightly, as if it didn't mean anything, as if it didn't mean Oz or a different Enchanted Forest or a Storybrooke that, on this timeline, had never even existed. As if it didn't mean a world in which they had been more than strangers and milady had been more than a courtesy title when he'd said it to her.

Regina waited. Would he see past the forced carelessness of the answer, or would he be happy to accept it? Would he care to find out more, or would he leave it at that? Which did she want it to be? She wanted him to ask, she wanted him to see. She yearned desperately for some sign that even in this detached universe, maybe the mysterious something binding them to each other still existed. She shouldn't. It was wrong, and what answers could she give even if he asked? But she couldn't help it.

Robin's gaze never slipped, though after a moment his face gained a faraway look that betrayed he might not really be seeing her at all. Something cold descended on her. He was looking right through her. Just like that. As if she weren't even there. There, she had her answer, didn't she now?

"Whatever your purpose in this land is, milady," he spoke with a determination and a solemnity that made it sound like a vow, "I would like to assist you in your endeavours."

His eyes locked with hers once again, and this time it was her turn to try and read him. Was this obligation? Was this all because she'd pulled him out of the lake? Probably. After all, he'd insisted on assisting her back in the Enchanted Forest after she'd protected Roland from that monkey. There was no point reading any more into this.

"It's a dangerous mission, I wouldn't have you take such risks for a stranger who got to help you out merely by a lucky chance."

"I daresay it was more than that. I am deeply indebted to you, but that's not the only debt I'll be paying if I join you."

There was a secret in there somewhere, hidden behind those enigmatic words of a debt to someone else. She might have probed at it once, but chances were she wouldn't even have needed to because he'd have let her in on it himself. Not so now. Now it was his secret to have, and despite her curiosity, it wasn't hers to covet.

Robin was a brave man, so chances were he wouldn't be deterred by what she was about to say, but Regina had to try nevertheless. For his sake. For his wife's sake - and, possibly, Roland's, though he probably hadn't been born yet. For the sake of her own sanity.

"I'm going up against the queen."

Robin was a brave man, but even from him the revelation should have brought forth some reaction akin to surprise, a momentary realisation that this was more than what he'd bargained for. Regina watched for tell-tale signs of that moment, expecting the tension to show in his features and rigid posture. Instead, his whole body seemed to relax, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He eyed her for a moment - what was it in his look now? Could it be admiration? No, it couldn't possibly. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, although he didn't smile.

"One more reason for me to join you."

Her heart shouldn't have rejoiced. This wasn't what she'd wanted.

It was exactly what she wanted.

Her chest burnt and breathing was suddenly a great feat to accomplish. She knew a way to fight this off, if only a little, something she'd resort to often, something Robin had always been good at returning in kind - something they'd both enjoyed doing. Banter was her friend.

"Very well," she said with a small grin. "Just as long as you don't get in my way."

Robin looked at her and tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

><p><em>I wouldn't dream of it<em>, he'd told her, this enigmatic, intriguing woman that puzzled him from the very first. But dream he did, a dream no less puzzling than his present reality. Once his eyelids grew too heavy for even worries to keep him awake, Robin drifted off - no, was snatched by sleep, not falling but plummeting into its depths.

He was trampling through a stretch of thick forest in a darkness so dense no matter how much he squinted, he didn't recognise so much as an outline of a tree, not a bright spot of sky through the leaves he only suspected high above him. The harder he trained his eyes, the more prone he seemed to stumbling. Bumping into yet another trunk in a landscape otherwise so familiar to him, Robin stopped for a moment.

Here he was again. The place was familiar, only worse than every other time before. He knew he was dreaming, like almost every time by now, but that didn't make the oppressive dark any more bearable.

Robin closed his eyes against the suffocating sensation.

The blackness behind his eyelids slowly thinned. A faint light shimmered before him, painting the black a softer shade of grey. He followed the light, carefully at first, but gaining security with every step. With his eyes closed, the trees seemed to disappear, jump out of his way. That wasn't what he believed was happening, though. The light, no matter how faint and unreal it seemed even within a dream, led him safely past every trunk, branch and root. Robin felt the all too familiar urge to open his eyes, to look upon that source of shimmery brightness - it had to be sharper, brighter yet than his closed eyes were letting in. Whenever he'd done that, though, the choking dark mass would descend on him again, blocking out his senses. So he pressed his eyes closed instead and simply followed.

Something changed as he got nearer. The air grew lighter, fresher, freeing. But this time, there was more to it than that. Robin quickened his pace, suddenly anxious to reach his destination. Something was different, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it. A stirring in the gut. A flutter of his heart. It was almost as if he were - yes, excited to see her this time. Happy, even.

Everything was shadows, but the woman was veiled in a shimmery white light. He'd noticed her eyes before, of course, the bottomless depth of them, but this time he couldn't have torn his gaze away if he'd wanted to. He didn't want to. Her words were the same every night, but perhaps those eyes would betray more, answer the questions that plagued him in his dreams: why did the dream keep returning, and what did all of this mean?

A pair of brown eyes and long, billowy black hair. A deep voice, but soft; pained, but somehow sweet. Words that said too much and too little at the same time. Those eyes. He stepped forward as he clutched the satchel around his neck. The heart hammered against his fingers through the fine leather. Her heart. And her eyes glistened. He inched towards her, holding her gaze. If only he could get closer yet, just another step, maybe he'd be able to read all the answers to his questions, and more. Just one more inch.

She averted her eyes. Spoke to him again, a hitch in her voice, but her eyes cast down all the while. As if she were afraid they'd betray too much.

So he stared at her hand instead, reaching toward him - no, towards the heart, dark red but streaked with bright crimson. Now he'd reach out and place it on her palm, or at least try to, and their fingers would touch and there'd be a sob and it would all be over.

Robin retracted his hand, holding the heart close by his chest. Why'd he do it? He wanted her to talk. To tell him more, something new, something she'd never said before. To look at him again. And he wanted to hold that heart a little longer. It should have scared him, but it never had, and this time it actually looked intriguing. Fascinating, the bright streaks breaking out over the dark surface, pushing the shadows out slowly. Stunning.

She glanced up at him and her eyes flashed - with fear? - before they began to dart about in the darkness. But she didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't demand her heart back.

The faint glow shrouding her began to fade as she backed away into the shadows.

Robin stepped forward, his arm held out to her, the heart resting on it, shining impossibly bright in the blackness around them. _Take it_, he'd have said, but his lips seemed sealed. Tonight wouldn't reveal her secrets either. But at least there would be a a brief moment of contact. At least there'd be that.

But she merely shook her head and moved further away from him.

Robin stumbled forward, desperate to give back what was hers because that's all she'd ever asked of him and she'd seem so sad and perhaps he'd see those eyes smile some day.

"Until we meet again," she whispered - words that were entirely new, that she'd never before spoken to him - and became one with the shadows.

And then he knew.

Those eyes. That hair. That voice. They were hers. The woman from a different world. The one who'd saved him. The one whose name he didn't even know.

Except he knew. Regina. Her name was Regina.

When he woke up next morning, he remembered nothing.


	27. The Cowardly Lion

_Well, this has been an unplanned and entirely too long break between updates, for a bunch of reasons I don't want to bore you with. Let's just skip right back into the story, shall we? But not before I thank you for hanging around and being so patient. Enjoy the antepenultimate chapter!_

* * *

><p>They'd been several days on the road and the ache was oh so familiar. She'd spent many a time cursing the blisters on her sore feet when their tiny rescue party, Robin and her, had trudged through the Enchanted Forest in search of Roland. It was them again - Robin, Regina, her sore feet and constant heartache because once again, someone she cared for had been ripped away from her.<p>

But he was right there. Regina watched him, as she would every night, set a small fire amid the tiny clearing - just a largish patch of grass without substantial shrubbery, really. Robin, who was right there, so close she could touch him easily if she only reached out. Regina's insides squirmed - that was untrue. He was close enough to the touch of her fingers but she couldn't reach _him_, the man hiding in the shell of his body.

He didn't talk much, the Robin of this world. Sometimes he'd talk in his sleep, and it would be more than he'd spoken to Regina all day. Not that there was any hostility between them, nothing like the dark, sulky, scornful treatment he'd received from her at the rocky beginnings of their acquaintance. No, she'd concluded after a day or two, he wasn't cold - merely distant, even disconnected from the paths they trod or the streams they crossed. Yet he managed to retain the ready alertness so typical of him. He'd be the first to hear a twig snap under the feet of some animal, large or small; the one to spot mushrooms hidden at the feet of trees; the first to point out the ideal camping spot. Other than the practicalities, however, he simply didn't seek conversation.

Part of her was hurt. No, all of her - all of her was hurting. Not because he seemed to draw no pleasure whatsoever from her company, but because she knew it was better this way. His eyes not probing. Their fingers not brushing. Lips not meeting. That was how it was supposed to be in this universe.

In this universe, they didn't belong together.

Regina slipped through the bushes in search, she reasoned, of more firewood - and a quiet, private moment to set free the heavy sigh building in her chest and the lone tear rolling down her cheek. Having gathered some dead twigs and dry leaves and even a handful of nuts from a sturdy old bush, Regina tried to school her face into a calm expression that would betray none of her inner turmoil once she emerged back at camp. A shrill cry of some bird made her jump and drop her load, the panicked flutter of wings struggling towards the sky immediately sending her into a defensive stance.

Leaves rustled, branches cracked. Something was coming - no, bounding - towards her, and whatever it was, it didn't care the least bit to steer clear of stumps or shrubs or to keep the noise down. The creature was closing in on her, beating about the foliage wildly.

Regina's palm tingled as magic stirred before the thought of it even crossed her mind. But which direction was the attack coming from?

"Get down!"

Regina ducked just as an arrow swished past her ear.

A sharp cry of pain. A thud as the arrowhead pierced the bark of a tree. Footsteps approached her - Robin's footsteps, that trademark lightness of feet necessitated by his trade.

"Are you alright?" he offered his hand to help her rise.

Just like the first time.

Only this time he'd called her _Dorothy_. That was her own stupid fault for playing it safe, for giving him a false name lest invisible ears caught the real one and tipped Zelena off. Regina was paying heavily for her own cautiousness. Every time the false name passed his lips, tears welled up in her eyes. What a mean, mean world. Here he was, her soulmate, and not only did she have no claim to his kisses, caresses, much less his heart, but she didn't even have this much now, wouldn't even hear her name pass his lips.

"Thank you," she managed, quite unlike the first time, and her stomach flipped as he grasped her hand and pulled her up, keeping a hold on her just long enough to make sure she could stand on her own.

"Don't move," he growled, and Regina was staggered at the harshness of his tone.

His eyes skimmed over her to the forest floor behind, a low grunt meeting his words, the grunt of a man Robin had actually addressed the words to.

The man was crouching beneath a gnarly tree, nursing a bloodied shoulder Robin's arrow had skimmed on its path. The sheepskin had slid off his torso and pooled around his knees in the dirt. A shepherd's crook lay at his feet. There was a familiar air about him, but it took a while before she saw beyond the shades obscuring his face, beyond the shaggy hair and shabby garments. He touched the scratch on his shoulder and a soft curse escaped him.

"David?" Regina gasped. Fortunately, neither man heard her.

Robin grabbed the man by the injured shoulder and pulled him up unceremoniously, indifferent to his agonised groan. It was indeed David, though much skinnier and shabbier than the one Regina knew. A shepherd, not a prince. David yelped as Robin spun him to look him in the face.

"Don't kill me, please," he let out.

Regina stared. This wasn't one bit like the David she knew.

David's eyes dropped to his feet, possibly out of shame or regret at the ugly display, but Robin forced him to look him in the face again.

"Why did you attack the lady?" Robin stormed.

"Didn't mean to. I didn't even know anyone was here."

"That's because we know how to be quiet. What was all the racket for?"

"Chasing away wild beasts."

"Or summoning the Green Knights!"

David shrunk at Robin's words.

"Robin," Regina stepped up, unable to watch the sorry scene any longer. "I think he's telling the truth."

Robin glanced back at her, his eyes cold and steely - a look of utter disdain reserved for the wretched shepherd cowering before him.

"We'll see about that," he grumbled, but she caught the tiny nod in her direction, and turned toward camp.

Robin half-dragged, half-prodded David, who seemed petrified from the encounter still, through the bushes to the smoldering fire. Regina threw on some leaves and twigs. David stared into the flames, fright slowly replaced by quiet reprieve.

"I could treat that shoulder for you."

Her voice seemed to vibrate in the tense air. Robin was still glowering at David even as he cleaned the shaft of the retrieved arrow of his blood.

"It's fine. You're not the Wretched Queen's spies, then?"

Even the thought seemed to frighten him, but could anyone blame the people of this land? The very fact that he'd dared to voice the question made him swallow hard. But he'd asked. That had required some courage, too.

"No, we're her enemies."

Robin's eyes flashed in her direction. Regina bit her lip. He was right, it had been reckless of her. Charming could have been trusted, but this was David the craven shepherd. Who could tell how deep his fear went, what it might drive him to do?

But she _knew_ these men. Their _real_ selves.

"That sort of makes us allies," David finally looked up from his feet.

Robin scoffed. This kind of display, this cold contempt, was so uncharacteristic of him it threw Regina completely off-balance, made her stomach sink.

"I know what you hold me for," David sighed. "A coward." His features froze set in a mask of quiet disdain. "Well, you're right. Which is why I'm here."

"Care to elaborate on that?" Robin snarled, his tone milder by far. Clearly, admitting to a flaw merited some respect.

"Nightroot."

Two pairs of eyes settled on Regina as she spoke, both equally perplexed. Of course. It made sense, didn't it? Certain things had a way of repeating themselves, she'd noticed more than once, though always with a twist. Nightroot coming into the picture was hardly the most shocking thing since Oz. David was a coward on a quest for courage. The irony might have been appreciated once, but now it was merely saddening.

"That's right. Needless to say, I haven't had any luck yet."

"You're in the woods at night, alone. You already possess more courage than you give yourself credit for." Here she was, giving Charming a pep talk. Her. Regina. Giving a pep talk. To a Charming. She could almost have laughed.

"Either that, or you're just a sorry fool." This sounded more like her. Except it had been Robin delivering the tease this time.

The world was upside down, and frankly, the more Regina was seeing, the less she liked it.

* * *

><p>Regina stirred the contents of the pot one last time, glancing at David's back some distance away. Robin and he hadn't exactly hit it off - which was strange considering the easy camaraderie they'd struck back in the Enchanted Forest. Not quite the same people, she reminded herself.<p>

Balancing a bowl of broth in each hand, she joined David.

"Dinner," she handed him his share and sank to a nearby stump with her own.

David accepted, but rather than settling down to eat, he looked around with a frown. "Your friend?"

"Scouting."

Robin did that every night, disappearing for any length of time from a mere hour up to half the night. Regina suspected these outings were much like her going off to collect firewood that afternoon - a time for quiet, undisturbed contemplation as much as a practicality.

"We should talk." That came out a little blunt, a little too forward, but she wasn't exactly one for heart to hearts and now wasn't the time to figure it out either. So she just went straight to the point. "What are you really looking for?"

David looked up from his bowl, his hand continuing its motions as he prodded the contents listlessly with his spoon.

"Already told you. Nightroot."

"No," Regina shook her head, "that's just a means. To what end, though?"

A swirl of dust went up as he shuffled his feet. The flash of fear didn't go unnoticed in the brief moment it took him to avert his eyes.

"My life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage," he muttered.

Perhaps Regina could have found some sort of sympathy for him, for he was in fact in company of self-professed traitors to the crown and braver men would be on their guard, but she needed answers and she wanted them immediately.

"I told you about our plans," she reminded him in a low voice - reminiscent of early Evil Queen, only not quite threating so much as reproachful. Wasn't reciprocation the expectation in heart to hearts? She had told him what she and Robin were doing. Not in detail, but she'd volunteered the gist - that the two of them were up against Zelena - and that was plenty to get them in serious trouble should David turn out to be a sneak. If she wanted to pry a little about his life, surely a little more cooperation wasn't too much to ask in return?

David raised his eyes to her face and stared with an intent that made her want to end it right there, to hide or to lash out. She forced herself to stay calm - look calm, at least - because he was weighing his chances, making up his mind whether she could be trusted. She could, but she wasn't exactly sure how to project that at him. Giving it her best, she stared back at him unflinching, unblinking even, arranging her features in what she hoped was a serene and friendly expression. The things she had to resort to, when a simple spell could have him spilling his guts to her - but that wasn't her way now.

"Have you ever been in love, Dorothy?"

The question landed like a punch to her gut. Regina blinked rapidly, fighting back tears, and clenched her fists to quench the stirrings of anger. The name grated, even from David it rubbed her the wrong way, and what business did he have asking such things anyway? Hitting so close to home?

Reciprocation. Was this him seeking to connect before he confided in her?

"Yes," she stuttered through gritted teeth. That was all she was giving him, and it would have to be enough.

He regarded her some more, the silence stretching longer.

"Fine," David conceded eventually, and Regina let out a sigh of relief. "Who knows, might even turn out a good idea." He seemed to seriously doubt it but went on nonetheless. "There's this woman I love. She's promised to another, and our only chance is to run away." He paused, pulling himself together.

Regina didn't mind; she suddenly had plenty to deal with herself. A couple in love and an arranged marriage standing in their way with plans to elope - if David was seeking for a connection here, he'd found one, and he had no idea, couldn't possibly know just what an effect his words were having on her. Regina struggled to keep her emotions in check - this wasn't, after all, about her and Daniel. It was about David and - who? Was his chosen one Snow White? Regina could hardly imagine anything else, yet in this realm anything was possible.

"So-" she cleared her throat, "you're plucking up courage to elope?"

"I don't know if it's even possible. We might not stand a chance - even with me not being the coward I am. Powerful forces at play. Powerful people."

"Does this have anything to do with the Wre-" Regina found she didn't have it in her to use the moniker and went quickly on, "the queen?"

David's eyes widened, then narrowed at her. He still didn't trust Regina. What an unfortunate sentiment to carry with him from "their" world - although to be fair, they had spent most of their lives being enemies before they'd recently become allies and…family?

The word did something to her, stirred something in her chest, and her gut came ready with the answer David still hesitated to give.

"It's Snow White, isn't it?"

The way his jaw dropped in shock and his eyes softened at the sound of the name was answer enough. Regina bit her lip and smiled a crooked smile. They'd found each other. Even in this accursed universe, the two idiots had found each other.

"So it seems we have a- a common enemy. Maybe we could join forces once I find the nightroot and - I'm actually some use."

"You won't find any." Regina had given it some thought and she was sure of it. If Lake Nostos had been rendered useless, so would other magical substances. Zelena seemed to have taken precautions against anyone willing to wield magic and possibly use it against her. Or perhaps she was just that greedy. "She'll have claimed it all for her private use."

"Then I'm doomed." He stared at his hands for a good while, then squared his shoulders. "I cannot just give up. If there's a single leaf out there, I will find it."

"It's the root you need."

David's shoulders slumped again and he shook his head listlessly. Regina cursed inwardly. Yes, well, that hadn't been the most considerate thing to say, this little factual correction, but part of her insisted even now that she'd been right to point this out to him, to warn him that his endeavour was misinformed and as such, futile.

David seemed utterly off-kilter. If Regina were to guess, she'd say up until now he'd at least had a plan, no matter how fearful, to stick to, but now he'd been robbed of even that. There was something utterly miserable about an out-of-hope Charming. Heavens knew how the bottomless optimism they'd usually been overflowing with had grated on Regina's nerves; but this was even worse.

"We're going to destroy her," she found herself saying, leaning forward to get his attention. "With Zelena gone, you and Snow will be free to live your happy ending."

Great. Now _she_ sounded like a Charming. Regina could almost kick herself.

David seemed doubtful, but at least he'd meet her eyes again, and with a spark of determination in his own, even. "I need to keep her safe. Get her out of the dungeons before the fighting."

What fighting? Did he imagine Zelena would be brought down with rusty blades and pointy sticks? A shepherd's crook?

"I thought Snow had been banished from the palace, on the run and hiding in the woods?"

"Recaptured and imprisoned until the wedding." David gathered a fistful of dirt and ground his fist, letting the fine dust fall through his fingers. Now, this David, with his mouth set and brow knitted, was closer to finding the courage he sought than ever. "Damn Prince James."

George's son. A heartless bastard just like the father who'd raised him. Zelena was out to destroy Snow's life, and more brutally so than Regina had ever thought to. With all the horrors the Evil Queen had once considered unleashing on her step-daughter, a loveless marriage had never crossed her mind, the thought of it too vile even with her thirst for vengeance, even though she would never have admitted then to any kind of fate being too vile for the hated girl.

"I'm coming with you," David cut through her thoughts. Before Regina could in any way react, he held up his hands in defense. "I know I'm a burden. But hear me out. You said all the nightroot will be in the palace. Maybe I can get my hands on some. I can swing a staff pretty well. I can actually be of use."

Teaming up with the Charmings? It was becoming something of a pattern. Even as she fought the impending eyeroll, she felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards. This was familiar, a remnant of real in this upside-down parallel universe, a reminder of what she was fighting to regain.

"You're in."

David's mouth formed a surprised O, then a small laugh broke out of him.

"Under one condition," she added. "I get to tell Robin." What she didn't say was the reason - Robin wouldn't like this. It went without saying, though, she could see David understood as he looked over his shoulder to the empty place by the fire.

Robin still wasn't back, and it'd been a good while since he'd left. Regina knew it well, had felt it in Neverland, that horrible crowded sense, the need to escape into solitude. Tonight, Robin seemed to need an extra dose of escape. It was unreasonable of her to feel dejected for it, utterly uncalled for, perfectly unjustified, and incredibly selfish. She understood, she really did. But it still pained her to no longer be a comfort to him, to be, apparently, a burden instead. It hurt all the more because it was one of the things she'd dreaded while they'd been together in Storybrooke - that he'd get tired of her, that the charm would wear off and he'd see all her bruises in a new light. And flee. And now he was avoiding her-

David was saying something, and Regina forced herself to listen because something dark and cold was creeping up on her and perhaps conversation would help scatter it.

"…a fork in the road this afternoon and wanted to take the other way, but then I saw a snowdrop peeking out from the grass. So I followed that path, and in the end stumbled upon you - probably the only two people in the kingdom bold enough to rise against the queen. Snowdrops aren't even in season now. It's almost like the universe wanted me to find you."

Regina shivered - she'd heard almost the exact same words from an amnesiac David before, in the kitchen of 108 Mifflin Street after a dinner of lasagna and wine.

A second later, a load of firewood clattered to the ground and the flames roared higher as Robin, just returned, had fed it a log. Regina caught his eyes for a moment, noticed the frown and the tension in his face, the glare he sent in David's direction, before he turned his back on the two of them.

* * *

><p>"Can we trust him?"<p>

Robin wouldn't look at her as he spoke, fiddling with some small object hidden in his hands. Regina took her time, a spark of irritation creasing her forehead as she sat. She glanced at David curled up in his sheepskin.

"Yes," she said and left it at that.

The silence lingered on, and where it had once been easy and comfortable, now it weighed down on them. There was no tension, or not the kind she'd feared there'd be. Robin seemed to have no desire to know her, learn to read her, talk to her, or even be near her. He didn't seem attracted to her at all. And this was good, she had to remind herself. Because it was. It _was_ good. It meant he wasn't suffering from it, the guilt he'd surely face if he discovered even a shred of inappropriate stirring for a woman other than his wife. Regina should be relieved, and for Robin's sake, she was. But it wounded her. The absence of everything she'd known to have existed between them was almost causing her physical pain. Something should have lingered, shouldn't it? They were soulmates after all.

But maybe not here. In this world, they were nothing.

And for him, it was for the best. But pain was selfish. It didn't care, it wouldn't go, it clung to her every step she travelled alongside this lover turned stranger.

Robin repeated the question more insistently, and even though the actual words eluded her again, she guessed the intent.

"He's in love with Snow White." Yes, Snow and Charming at least had found each other even in this world. Good for them. "He'd never betray anyone to the person hunting her down. Plus, Zelena intends to marry her off to someone else."

"So that's why he's so hellbent on changing. He wants to fight for her."

This time, Robin's voice didn't drip sarcasm. The hard stance he'd taken with David might just be eased by this one fact. Robin knew how it was to fight for love, after all. Unlike David's, Robin's foe couldn't be defeated, but perhaps the common denominator would be enough to make the men civil, if not friendly.

"What else?" Robin asked, cutting into her thoughts once again.

"Nothing, that's it." They had talked more extensively, but she'd given Robin the gist. Why all the interest anyway, in a man Robin had already seemed to condemn the moment he'd seen him cowering at his feet? (Robin, who never condemned anyone, not even the infamous Evil Queen.) Why did he suddenly want to chat?

"You talked a while." His tone made no sense. Why would it come across so brusque, almost accusatory?

And just like that, her anger flared, stifling out every other contending emotion, like she'd welcomed for it to do on so many occasions.

"Well I've had a bit of a dry spell in the conversation department," she huffed, "so you'll excuse me if I take to the idea when there's someone interested."

"I didn't mean to shut you out."

It was the way he said it - repentant. And the way he rubbed the back of is neck - abashed. All the anger she'd been flooded with evaporated in a blink.

"I think you did," she sighed. "It's alright." _I used to do that, too._ In a way, one could almost say it was his turn to build walls. "I've no right to berate you for keeping private."

Regina waited. For what? For Robin to speak? To bare his soul to her because they had a connection he couldn't understand but couldn't deny either? Well, she might as well forget that, because he remained still.

Her eyes burnt from the smoke.

Maybe it wasn't the smoke.

"Robin, you're free to go," she choked out, and no, it definitely wasn't the smoke. "Your debt to me is paid."

Robin glanced at her briefly, then at the dark outline of David's body under the skeepskin.

"He wouldn't have hurt you, so I never saved your life. Even if I had, it'd make no difference." A tiny crack later, he added: "I'm doing this." Gentle. Almost like a caress.

Her heart was torn between soaring and sinking. _I'm doing this_. What did that mean, exactly? Regina chanced a look at him. Not his face, that felt too overwhelming somehow, but his feet, the tips of his boots. She followed his shins, up and up, but not too high up before her eyes stopped at the hands resting on his knees, still fiddling with that small object. Flames reflected off of the small glass vial. A crack ran so long and deep across the container it was a miracle it hadn't quite snapped in two yet. It looked empty. Then it clicked. The water. Lake Nostos.

"What did you want it for?"

She'd spoken quietly, so quietly he could choose to ignore her if he so preferred.

For a good while, it seemed he might, then the words passed his lips on a sigh.

"My wife."

So he did indeed have a wife. And was about to lose her, like he had before.

"She took ill a few months ago. There's no helping her." He rubbed at his cheek - a slow, weary gesture lacking in urgency. He didn't bother to hide the tears, and she wished, more than anything, to never have asked the wretched question, or even started up a conversation at all. Regina hurt for him so much even his next words, tricky as they would prove for her to respond to, were embraced without hesitation.

"What did you need it for?" he asked, and as he hadn't tried to hide his misery from her, so she, too, gave an honest reply.

"Too use against Zelena."

"Is that what I'm helping you steal?" He'd already informed her, early on, that she was dealing with a thief wanted by the queen, had confessed to having stolen from Zelena once, and as such to being in a unique position to help Regina break into the castle and into the vault. "Is it a piece of magic? Something to defeat her with?"

"Sort of." This felt all wrong, though, she wasn't telling him enough. But how much was too much? "Not quite. And we're not stealing. We're…retrieving."

Robin's eyes narrowed. His searching gaze lacked the usual subtlety but not genuine interest.

"I understand if you don't want to divulge the details. But your secrets would be safe with me."

It was out before she could help it, the words tumbling out so fast there was a good chance he might not catch them at all.

"It's a heart."

Robin sat back slowly with a frown creasing his brow.

"This- is no metaphor. Not a heart-shaped gem," he said. "An actual heart."

Regina nodded. The thought was disturbing of course, she could see that, but something about the way he was staring at her made her wonder if that really was all there was to it. He seemed to be waiting for something, for her to elaborate. And could she blame him? Could she blame herself if she yearned to tell him everything?

"Mine," she breathed.

His jaw dropped. His hand went up and his fingers flexed, making a fist against his chest. Only then did he seem to become aware of his hand opening and closing, brought it to his eyes and stared at it for a moment before he looked back at her.

"Yours?" he repeated in a voice thick and strained to the point of breaking.

Instead of the relief she'd been hoping for, Regina tensed even more. He was taking this much worse than she'd anticipated. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the impulsive gesture of his fist a moment before. It was almost as if he were scared. Defensive? Was he wondering if his own heart was at risk, too? Robin's eyes were on her, boring into hers with so many questions that didn't pass his lips. She let them. Let them watch, let them read. He'd once been able to read so much there, perhaps now it'd help him understand what even words couldn't accomplish.

"You don't have a-?" he swallowed, sounding slightly more collected at last.

"No. I don't."

He bit his lip - not the coy, maddening way that would send little shocks through her belly, but like one weighing his thoughts.

"How does that work? Can you-?"

"Feel? Yes, I can." _Only not fully. It's difficult to explain. _It could go just the way it had, couldn't it?_ Use mine for the both of us. _No, it couldn't. It wouldn't. So she changed it up, only a little, only to make this glaring difference a tad less painful. "Only it's- different." A deep breath. In, and out again. Move to safer ground. "She doesn't go around ripping hearts out, then?"

"There have been rumours," he conceded. "I know for a fact she doesn't have mine, though."

Regina waited for an explanation, though in fact she didn't need one. It hurt too much to be missing, he was saying. But he didn't voice that sentiment. What he said instead shouldn't have been a shock to her, but it was still an unpleasant surprise.

"I've made a deal."

"With Rumplestiltskin?"

"I se the Dark One's reputation transcends realms."

"I've- heard of him. And the price of magic."

"It's not too bad, actually."

That worried her more than anything. It was always bad, and all the worse if that wasn't obvious from the start.

"Sometimes you don't see it until it's claimed more than you'd expected it to."

"That might be. Rumplestiltskin asked my help for a person unknown, and I searched for them ever since, anxious to have it over. Yet at the same time I was dreading the encounter because I was sure they'd be someone horrible, up to commit some atrocious act in which I'd have to partake. Instead, they're the one to find me in the end, saving my life, and it turns out their purpose is one I'd always striven for but was too little to reach. In this respect, the price of this magic seems like no price at all."

"Why would he send you to me?" How did Rumple even know? Well, he had always known more than was desirable for the rest of the world. Perhaps he'd managed to retain a shred of self-awareness in yet another curse-like situation - he'd certainly secured himself an advantage or two during Regina's curse. Perhaps Rumple wanted this to be undone, too - he'd have to. An ally like him would be of much help, but there was no use getting her hopes up. Zelena had the dagger. They were fortunate to have had Rumple slip from her reins enough to set Robin in Regina's direction.

"He doesn't seem too fond of the queen, even though they're allies." He leaned forward. "This queen is a formidable foe, milady. You've seen the state of the land to give you an idea what it is like to live - and, far too often, die - under her rule. But know this: there's more, and there's worse. Horrors you cannot possibly imagine."

Regina bowed her head. That was just it - she could imagine. It would be so much easier to say nothing, yet even the thought filled her with guilt. She'd wanted him to see her for who she was after all, not who she'd like him to believe her to be.

"I know all too well about unimaginable horrors one embittered, darkened soul is capable of. The lengths to which they'll go, depths to which they'll sink… I know only too well."

"This is personal, isn't it? Yet I hear no hatred in your words. Sadness, yes, but not hatred."

"We have too much in common."

"I can't imagine you having anything in common with a woman like her."

"What if I told you I used to be much like her once, in a different world?"

"I wouldn't believe it."

"You don't believe such a change is possible?" He didn't know, couldn't know, how much depended on his answer. Suddenly, his next words meant everything to her. It felt so easy, so tempting to overlook the flaws of the ones you loved. Here, now, he wasn't in love with her, wasn't attracted to her in any way that could distort his perception. Would he condemn her now?

"I know change is possible." A smile, nay, a laugh was ready on her lips, barely contained as he spoke on. "I like to believe I have changed for the better. But it's impossible for me to think of the queen in those terms. This is personal for me as well."

The smile faded before it could curve her lips, the laugh dying in her chest.

"Well, it's a good thing you don't believe me then."

* * *

><p>Robin tossed and turned for a good while before falling into a restless sleep rent with dreams of the mystery woman screaming in agony as skeletal fingers ripped the warm, beating heart from her chest while Robin looked on, unable to move or call out for help. He would jerk awake and wait for long stretches of time to fall asleep again, only to return to the wretched dream, only this time the mystery woman would be replaced by the one huddled under a blanket a short distance away. Dawn found him staring into the smoldering remnants of the fire, too distraught by such visions to have the slightest desire to go back to sleep again.<p>

His recurring dream appeared to have been nothing short of prophetic. If had meant something to the Dark One, clearly. Had Rumplestiltskin been searching for the right person, the right dream, all along? Was Robin meant to do this - to retrieve her heart, to return it to her?

He still felt unease creeping onto him, spreading from his stomach and through his chest at the thought of her heartless. Images from the dream had swum to the surface of his mind as she'd told him, and he'd found himself gripping thin air where the leather satchel would hang from his neck in the dream every night. Was she the one haunting his dreams all this while? He'd only ever really seen the eyes of the ethereal woman, and they did look remarkably like hers - at least that was what he'd established when he'd allowed himself to stare the previous night. And she'd let him.

This was remarkable, for she'd been so very reluctant to even look at him that time she'd dragged him out of the lake and revived him. Yet last night she'd let him look as much as he wanted. There'd been a strange intimacy to it, and he winced inwardly as he thought back on it now - his actions seemed so much more invasive somehow, so brash and inconsiderate. He had a faint memory of emotions flashing through those eyes, a play of shadows and light, an occasional glimmer that he hadn't paid attention to because all he'd been trying to do was look if the two pairs of eyes - the one from his dreams and the one he knew in flesh - could possibly be a match. It felt foolish now, a waste, and Robin tried to track that faint guilt he was experiencing to its source. He'd found those eyes so very eloquent from almost the moment they'd met, and yet now that he'd been given the chance to look, to study, to read, well, he'd wasted it on a dream.

A remarkable dream, though, persistent and intriguing. Meaningful somehow, though despite the obvious parallels with reality, he felt its true meaning was still eluding him.

Robin lifted himself from the ground with a sigh, rekindled the fire and threw on the last remaining logs. The shepherd was snoring away under the sheepskin; Robin didn't give him more than a glance. His gaze lingered on her instead, just two steps away now, the blanket rising and falling with her breath. The woman he'd been tasked to find, the one who'd saved him from the siren's clutches, the one with her heart missing. The one with the mesmerising eyes-

Robin hissed and snatched his hand from the flames, cursing under his breath at the sight of singed skin. It was a harmless but painful burn he was nursing now as a price for his distraction. All the more reason fro him to truly wake up and occupy himself with something more useful than idle speculation. Water would be needed for the fire as well as to replenish their drinking supplies, so Robin moved to retrieve the water skins.

As he busied himself with the bags, a twig broke somewhere in the ticket. He held his breath for a moment but continued to fiddle with the skins, giving away nothing. The sun was coming up slowly, rising above the horizon and scattering soft light through the leaves, but the bush the sound had come from was still cast in shadow. He rose and set off in the direction of a small stream he'd come across the night before, never looking around as he disappeared in the trees.

He walked for a while, his footsteps louder than necessary, then took a wide berth and returned to the edge of the clearing without so much as a rustle, sneaking with speed and skill until he reached the shade of the large bush. It only took a moment and a trill of a thrush for him to understand the lurker had moved on. He crept closer and peered through the foliage.

Just as he thought, he was on to an adversary. It was impossible to make out more than tangled, matted hair and shabby clothes verging on rags really, but sure enough, the lurker had approached Robin's bedroll and was going through his meagre possessions even as he watched. This could be a common thief, a villager or a straggler desperate for food but otherwise harmless. But it could also be a threat; starvation made people desperate.

The hunched figure finished with Robin's bag and began to crawl over towards his still sleeping companion, who didn't as much as stir.

Robin stepped out of the thicket.

"You're not a very skillful thief," he stated dryly, his hand on the knife behind his belt, his eyes trained on the intruder. One false move and he'd throw. His skills with the knife didn't match up to the bow and arrow, but he'd do well enough at such short range.

The thief jumped up and scuttled away from him, away from them and towards David, who'd apparently gone unnoticed so far. After two hasty steps, however, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Robin with an almost defiant expression.

_She_. She'd turned to face him.

"I learn by doing," she said. A flash of fear crossed her features as her eyes dropped to the knife he was still clutching, but her voice didn't waver. "Not much guidance to be found when people would rather starve than risk the Wretched Queen's wrath."

Robin's hold on the hilt slackened a notch, though he didn't remove his hand. The resentment in the girl's voice was unmistakable. Despite her forlorn looks and shabby garments, her speech was that of a noble rather than a peasant. A vague suspicion sunk in but before it could take proper shape, the girl's eyes flitted around the clearing and, seeing she was at a disadvantage now and potentially outnumbered, she moved like a flash, grabbed the satchel she'd dropped and made for the trees.

"Stop!" Robin drew the knife. They couldn't afford any risks, not so close to their destination. "Or I'll make you!"

The girl ran on. Robin aimed and threw. There was a shout, _nooooo_, and a blur of sheepskin throwing itself into the knife's path but missing, falling to the ground in time with the unfortunate thief who'd almost reached the coveted shelter of the forest. Almost.

"Snow!" David cried, the implication just about freezing Robin's blood, and scrambled to his feet.

Then everything seemed to stop as all eyes rested upon the knife - Robin's knife - frozen in midair inches from where Snow's heart had been a moment ago.

Dorothy's arm was outstretched, her palm tingling with the same shimmery substance holding up the knife.

"You saved my life," the thief - none other than Snow White, apparently - turned to her with wide eyes, still on the ground for some inexplicable reason, seeing as the knife meant for her was still hanging in midair.

Dorothy swallowed and let her hand fall to her stomach. Her eyes were no less wide than Snow White's, and misty for some reason. Granted, the banished princess was a sore sight - the rumours of the Wretched Queen dressing her in rags proven to be true - and the girl had seen more hunger than royal feasts recently, and hardly any sleep. Yet the sheer profoundness of Dorothy's shock seemed to unsettle even Snow White, who was finally helped to her feet by a fussing David.

"Are you alright?" David and Dorothy managed in unison, and Robin couldn't shake the feeling that something bizarre was in the works here.

For a moment, a good long one, Snow was lost in a fierce embrace, all sheepskin and rags.

Robin moved to Dorothy's side and, musing at her laboured breathing, a lone tear despite the soft smile as she watched the couple's reunion, he placed a hand on her lower back without a second thought.

The knife clattered to the ground. Her glance went to him for a split second, all fear and hope and so much else he didn't catch before she stepped away from him.

Snow White approached her. "Thank you-"

"D-Dorothy," she supplied, and Robin thought it sounded about as shaky as the time she'd volunteered the name to him.

* * *

><p>"There's a guard positioned here," Snow jabbed the stick in between criss-crossing lines drawn in the dirt, "here, and here. Impossible to sneak this many people in unnoticed."<p>

Breakfast hadn't even commenced yet and it had already been agreed that they were now a team of four, joining forces to try and throw off the Wretched Queen's yoke. Dorothy seemed to have an uncanny sense of affiliation to Snow White, which Robin thought even the girl had noticed and failed to understand. Any qualms Robin might have had about being so quick to welcome another stranger to their circle had been, if not vanquished, lessened at least. _If you cannot trust me, who can you trust?_ Snow had pointed out, quite correctly, between two mouthfuls of the bread and cheese she'd been wolfing down. Robin had eyed her with worry, for a sudden abundance of food could do a shrunken stomach more bad than good, while David had gazed on fondly and kept feeding her choice bites of his own helping. It had been Dorothy who'd eventually pried the large chunk of cheese from Snow White's grip with the promise of more later - and, to everyone's surprise, the girl had offered no resistance. She'd seized a stick and began sketching a plan of the castle for them, pointing out entrances, obstacles and traps - the ones she knew about, at least.

"But could you sneak two in?" Dorothy asked.

"Not this way. But," the point of the stick hovered above the plan, then made a mark at the foot of one of the castle walls. "I could here. I know a woman in the kitchens. She'll let us in."

"You and David," Dorothy nodded. "Robin and I will take a different route." So their part of the plan was unchanged, then. Did they even need to bring Snow and David into this? It would be highly impractical to rejoin within the castle walls and guide not only Regina but two other people through the traps and into the vault. No, that was a risk Robin wasn't willing to take.

"I might have missed something," David spoke up for the first time in a while, "but what exactly are we supposed to do once we're in."

Dorothy licked her lip. She had the habit of doing that in awkward situations, it seemed. Perhaps she didn't trust them so readily after all. Then again, she more than likely was keeping plenty of information from him as well. Which was perfectly understandable and even reasonable, unlike the pang of disappointment the thought called forth.

"There's a sword somewhere," she began. "Steel with a black hilt inlaid with gold, a curved guard and golden pommel."

"There are hundreds of swords in the armoury."

"This one would be kept separately, perhaps even mounted in a place of honour. A boast, so to speak. A token of power."

Snow White's eyes widened.

"In the audience chamber. The whole idea of one is absurd of course, no one's foolish enough to ever ask for that witch's help. But there's a sword just like the one you describe. She tried to use it at a beheading once, but its blade turned into water in her hands." A curious gleam appeared in her eyes that rendered Snow White's face malicious rather than pitiful. "Later it was discovered high on a wall, guarded by some mysterious, invisible shield even Zelena's powers are useless against. Word has it no one can retrieve it."

"Good. You'll need to get that sword."

A heart - Robbin shivered at the thought and his eyes dropped to Regina's chest before he realised what he was doing and looked up at he face again - and a mysterious sword that wouldn't do the Wretched Queen's bidding. This would no doubt be a remarkable mission.

"I've already tried," Snow White admitted, "and failed." Her voice dripped bitterness, and it wasn't hard to guess the rest: she'd hoped to find an ally in the sword, a weapon against the queen, one of the few things animate or inanimate that would resist the queen's power. It must have been a bitter disappointment indeed.

Dorothy reached out and touched the girl's arm, but her eyes rested on David.

"It must be you," she said.

Well, if there was one thing as unifying as their dislike of the queen, it was their utter bafflement at Dorothy's statement. Yet it was David who seemed most shocked.

"Me? Of all people, I doubt I'll be wor-"

"Of course you're worthy!" Snow White exclaimed and rested an affectionate palm on David's cheek.

"I don't think it's a good idea, I wouldn't want to ruin this - or put you in danger." He wound his arms tighter around the princess, and perhaps she was about to protest, but instead she ended up melting under his touch.

Envy bubbled up in Robin, black and sticky, because he had this and was about to lose it. The envy brought shame with it, shame that he should begrudge them what anyone could see was true and deep. Dorothy could see it, too, a shaky smile on her lips. When their eyes met she rolled hers, _such a display, _but the watery smile stayed on. She certainly felt things deeply, even without her heart. He wondered if that was the usual way of things or if she was special in that way.

_She is special._

"Sorry," David looked up eventually, "surely you understand that for a coward like m-"

"You're doing this," Dorothy cut in, and there was no trace of gentleness now in her features or her voice, both of them sharp and authoritative. "It's the price of nightroot."

By the looks of it, the queen had scoured the land and confiscated just about every item of magical properties for her exclusive use. If they were right, she'd be the sole possessor of a stock of the healing waters of Lake Nostos and the courage-invoking night root. The sword in exchange for the courage David so desperately sought. It was a clever move, and it worked.

"I'll do it," David said through gritted teeth, his voice unwavering and his eyes trained on Snow.

"That's settled then."

* * *

><p>Armed with everyone's water skins now, Robin made his way to the stream. He wasn't exactly comfortable leaving them behind like that - leaving Dorothy with two strangers, practically, whom he still couldn't find it in himself to fully trust. Trust didn't come easily to him anymore, not after he'd lost the friends he'd cared about, and not in this wreck of a kingdom where it was a fight for the common man just to survive. But Dorothy had sent him off with a reassuring nod, and so he went.<p>

His head throbbed as he began filling the skins, the cool water pleasant against his skin. No matter how hard he tried to sort out his thoughts, there only seemed to be more and more questions springing up by the minute. Dorothy, his peculiar dream, the Dark One's price and how they tied together. David the cowardly shepherd and exiled princess Snow White the unskilled bandit in rags, their motives, their reliability, their connection to Dorothy. They didn't seem to be aware of a connection, but she did.

With the skins full and his fingers numb with cold, Robin made his way back to camp. He saw the smoke rising above the treetops from a long way away - too far away, in fact. Did neither of them realise too big a fire might alert someone of their presence? He moved faster, long strides crushing twigs without any care for noise or no noise, apprehension driving him forward.

There were voices shouting, male voices that certainly didn't belong to David.

Robin broke into a run, dashed through the overgrowth and was about to burst into the clearing when Dorothy's voice made him stop in his tracks.

"There's no one here but my husband and I, sirs, and the sheep. Poor soul."

Robin sought shelter in a leafy bush and inched closer until he finally came within sight of the clearing.

Two soldiers stood with their feet planted in the ground, swords drawn, the steel tinted green just like their armour. Robin's fists clenched at the sight. He'd faced many a Green Knight in the past, most of them no more than a common cutthroat.

David was barely standing, supporting himself against a tree trunk, as blood trickled down his swollen lip. Dorothy, however, stood unflinching, not proud exactly, not provoking, just the right amount of humility to pass for innocence. Snow White was nowhere to be seen.

"You lost a sheep in the forest, huh?" the tall, lean one scoffed.

"We did," Dorothy nodded, "and must find her if we're not to starve."

"Funny. Betchoo were poaching. Or 'arbouring a criminal."

"We wouldn't dare," Dorothy smiled sweetly. "Who'd defy the queen?"

"That brat Snow White."

Leaves rustled and Robin looked up. There she was, perched in the top of a tree, perfectly visible and yet hidden from the soldier's eyes. Climbing trees at least seemed to be a skill she'd mastered.

"You'd think she'd be 'appy to marry up but nope, ungrateful li'l-"

"Enough," the squat, broad one boomed and brandished his sword. "Give her up. We've been following her for days, this is the only suitable campsite around, she'd have passed and you'd have seen her. Where is she?"

"We saw no one," David spoke with such resolution as Robin hadn't yet heard from him.

"Your husband is a liar and a scum," Pumpkin spat and made a step towards Dorothy. "You could do better, you know."

Beanstalk laughed and licked his lips, ogling her.

Robin dropped the skins and fumbled at his belt. _Damn!_ The knife wasn't with him - it was still lying where it had dropped, he'd never collected it. He had no bow, no arrows, no knife - no weapons on him whatsoever.

The man took another step towards Dorothy. David moved away from the tree but he wasn't swift enough. Pumpkin swung a mighty left hook at him and sent him stumbling to the ground. Beanstalk groped after Dorothy, crude obscenities raining from his mouth. Robin's blood boiled, bile rose in his throat. He grabbed the water skins, two and two tied together for easier grip, dashed into the clearing and, for lack of a better weapon, hurled the first pair at the son of a bitch. Beanstalk roared at the impact but the skins were a mere distraction, couldn't harm him, and rather than lashing out at Robin as he'd hoped he would, the soldier went after Dorothy again. Magic gleamed in her palm but before she could dispatch it, the man had thrown herself at her, pinning her to the ground.

Somewhere to the side David was being beaten to pulp by Pumpkin, but Robin couldn't find it in himself to care right now, not when she was in danger. He charged and toppled on top of Beanstalk, wrestling him off of Dorothy. The man was strong as an ox, though, he was putting up a fight, and the combined weight of the two of them was crushing her for sure. Robin twisted the man's arm, sustained a kick in the crotch - whether from the ruffian or the writhing Dorothy he couldn't tell - groaned and twisted harder, seeing stars from the pain.

Beanstalk shifted at last, trying to slip from Robin's grasp, and as he did, Robin's eyes locked with Dorothy's. The fear he saw there, the silent plea, awoke a beast in him even the sight of a Green Knight or the thought of the Wretched Queen couldn't. It was the same beast he'd become after the death of each of his friends - John and Tuck and Alan, Much and Will - and the same one that'd been lying dormant while Marian lay ill because there was no enemy to unleash it on. But the beast was very much awake now, and its claws sunk into the soldier's muscles where no armour guarded them, ripping out flesh and veins. Finally, amid agonised screams, Beanstalk began to scramble away, and Robin let him, but only until he was sure Dorothy was no longer in danger, and then he went after him anew.

They rolled on the ground together, kicking and punching and even biting wherever they reached, then came to a halt as they hit another squirming couple - David was still holding his own against Pumpkin after all. But not for long - as Robin fought on, he'd only just caught David being knocked unconscious from the corner of his eye. Pumpkin rose, and there was a double cry of "David!" and "Robin!" as both Snow White and Dorothy- What? Cried out in fear? Issued a warning?

Robin rolled them over, giving up his hard-earned spot on top, and saw Pumpkin towering over them with his sword pointing downward. A jet of bright light hit him square in the chest. Pumpkin staggered and dropped the sword. A moment later, Snow fell from the sky, landed just behind Pumpkin, and cut the man's throat in one swift motion.

A punch to the stomach knocked the air out of Robin - his attention had slipped for a moment too long, and now he was paying in pain. Once Robin's grip on him had slackened, Beanstalk used the chance to run for it. He crawled away, then rose to his feet and stumbled towards Dorothy. A fireball sat on her palm, a protective shield rather than a threat of attack, and even though her face was set, the line of her mouth seemed too thin and her face too pale for it to be just defiance - she was scared. Robin spat out the blood from his split lip while he notched and arrow.

But Beanstalk seemed to have no fight left in him. He swerved past Dorothy and made for the forest. Her shoulders relaxed visibly as he did, but Robin was still seeing red: he still had her frightened eyes before him and the brutish man upon her, the smell of his long gone friends' funeral pyres was upon him, and his Marian's untimely but nearing end. Beanstalk, still running for the trees, wasn't a common mercenary now - he was all those things, all the things the monster lurking within Robin hungered to vanquish. No, he wasn't getting away.

Robin drew back as far as the bowstring would give and released.

* * *

><p>Snow took the lead once the campfire had been extinguished and their possessions gathered. The road curved and wound around rocks and across dried-up riverbeds. David was chatting away beside Regina, but thankfully didn't seem to require conversation. He made do with the occasional noncommittal sound she'd make in response, and chatter on. Slightly annoying, but at least he was managing to cope with the stress. Robin would sometimes part from the group to scout ahead or double back, making sure there would be no more unpleasant surprises. Regina hadn't spoken to him that day, at least not beyond plans and strategies and the frantic exchange of his <em>are you quite alright?<em> and her own reassuring _yes_, even though it wasn't entirely true.

Snow cast her a furtive over-the-shoulder look, and Regina fixed hers on Robin's back. His boots were kicking up a curious yellowish dust the road had taken on as they were nearing their destination. Then he disappeared behind a bend in the road, as did Snow and David. Once Regina turned the corner, she found Snow waiting for her. She fell into step with Regina without an explanation, and Regina braced herself for whatever interrogation she might be subjected to. But Snow remained quiet, so much so that Regina began to relax and even steal glances at her profile. This Snow's features seemed sharper somehow and more defined, almost gaunt. Her complexion was nowhere near as white as snow but had a greyish - greenish? - tinge. She didn't look healthy. Regina's fist curled into her pocket and she bit the inside of her cheek. She mustn't let her distress show, or it would arouse even more suspicion.

"Maybe you're not Zelena's spy after all."

It came as a surprise and at the same time it didn't. Regina'd noticed Robin's questioning looks and Snow's bewilderment; even David had seemed to suspect something at one point. Regina'd been remarkably welcoming - what a strange thought - of these supposed strangers, too invested in Snow's fate especially. There would be questions on their minds, and as justified as their curiosity was, Regina wasn't prepared to answer them. The truth was too messy to explain, and anything less just felt wrong.

"I just don't understand," Snow shook her head, "why you'd risk so much for a stranger. Even with a common enemy."

"We need your help."

"You accepted it, but you didn't seem to require it before."

Of course Snow wouldn't be happy with Regina's elusive response, she'd always had to nag for answers, had wanted to know more, to be allowed closer.

"Fine. I didn't want you to be dragged back to the castle and-" Regina's nails dug into her palms, "forced to marry against your will."

Snow stopped and held out an arm before Regina.

"Why?" For the first time, her voice actually sounded like her own, free of the bitter undertones it carried in this world. "It's customary in this land."

"Just because it is doesn't mean it should be."

Snow regarded her for a long while. Then her face split into a smile, and - yes, this was Snow White as Regina knew her.

"Seems we have more than an enemy in common. You despise arranged marriages just as much as I do."

"I wouldn't wish one on my worst enemy." And she never had. Not even Snow, not even at the height of her hatred. There'd been precious little the Evil Queen'd had qualms about, but this had been one of them.

"They'd have killed David."

"Probably," Regina conceded.

"Maybe there really is such a thing as a genuine, selfless connection between people."

Before she knew how to respond, Regina found her fingers clutched in Snow's hand.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Robin was turning the cracked vial in his hand like he'd gotten into the habit of doing. Everyone else had gone to sleep quite some time ago. Snow and David were curled up together a bit further away from the fire, yet Robin was positive they were much warmer than him, and not only because tonight's fire was especially tiny and inconspicuous - so close to the castle, even this was a risky business. He could have used his blanket this late in the night but with Dorothy curled up under it, that was out of the question.<p>

It had thrown him, this unaccustomed sleeping position, even more than her customary one had taken getting used to. For nights he'd seen her ram rod straight on her back with her arms folded, as if she were hugging herself, yet projecting an inaccessible image towards the world. Tonight, he could only see her back. Robin scowled at the heels of her boots, then her shoulders, where locks of hair tumbled from under the blankets. Earlier, after everyone had settled to try and get some sleep, he'd thought he'd heard her sob once or twice, but it'd all been so quiet, and her shoulders hadn't been shaking. Apart from the rise and fall of each breath, he detected nothing.

Robin's gaze dropped to the vial again. The cracks were becoming more and more prominent, running like so many angry, protruding veins, as he clutched and squeezed at the thing night after night. Thinking. And occasionally - increasingly - despairing. Because as much as he'd gladly give his life if it meant overthrowing the Wretched Queen's rule, the idea was giving him much too little thrill these days. He'd be happy to give his life, but not Marian's. Robin's knuckles were white around the vial as he recalled the feel of the baby's first kicks under his palm. Their baby. The son who wouldn't know his mother. _You'll be mother and father to him both_. The words had filled him with pain when his wife had spoken them and filled him with dread even now.

He pulled the knife from his belt and reached into his bedroll for the piece of wood he'd come across in the forest. It was still blunt and clumsy but recognisable for what it was about to become: head, legs, tail, even the mane with two little stumps poking out for ears. Robin set to work, shavings flying and piling at his feet. When something else landed in the dust, too, something wet and shiny, he didn't stop or change the purposeful strokes of the blade on wood. He did try, however, to focus his thought elsewhere, somewhere immediate and practical, and settled on the morning's mission.

Breaking in. Stealing - no, retrieving - a heart. Returning her heart, like he'd never quite managed to do in those unfortunate dreams of his.

What must it be like to have one's heart missing? Did it stop the pain? If someone offered to rip it out for him now, he might be willing to try.

Right now, Robin knew he had a heart because it was breaking.

And perhaps it was the stubbornness with which he kept working the wood, or the blurriness of his vision, or maybe his own laboured breathing, but he never noticed her approach until she joined him by the fire.

"I- didn't mean to wake you."

"And I don't mean to intrude."

He hadn't meant for her to hear him - for anyone, really - hadn't really been aware of any need to share his plight. But now that she was here, he suddenly wanted her to stay.

"I don't mind," he managed, and it sounded colder than he'd meant it, so he looked up at her and chanced a smile. It didn't work out, was a grimace at best, but the message seemed to get across anyway.

"I'm listening," she offered softly.

Robin opened his mouth, then closed it. Where to start? How could he hope to make her understand?

"My father never cared for me. He was a lousy father." His tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, and it took his brain a while to catch up and his heart to admit to having this crippling fear he'd never voiced before. "The thing is…he's all I know."

"You don't want to be like him."

He looked up in astonishment. How could she have guessed what he had until then failed to acknowledge himself? She tilted her head at his likely wild look, her own slightly panicked for a split second. Then she indicated his hands. He was still holding the horse-to-be, the knife hanging slack and useless from his fingers.

Robin bowed his head. It was true - he'd been terrified at the prospect of raising the baby all on his own and unwittingly taking on his father's ways - cold and distant, if not outright cruel. He'd do his very best, of course, but that didn't mean his best would be enough.

"What if I'm not fit to be a parent? With Marian gone… I'll be the only one our son has."

He hadn't planned for it to come out so desolate, had surprised even himself, but she didn't seem fazed at all. She reached for his hand - at least that's what he thought she was doing - but instead of taking it in hers, she merely squeezed his wrist and immediately let go. It was strangely disappointing, and left him feeling hollow somehow.

"Where I come from," Regina began after a moment's silence, and how strange that she should have the same quirk he did, "there's an ancient saying that goes _sursum corda_."

"'Lift up your hearts'," Robin nodded. "It's of religious origin." Why was she bringing this up now? A curious feeling overcame him, and an impending shiver made Robin sit up straighter. He struggled for a while, trying to place it, then decided the deja vu was but an illusion brought about by the familiar turn of phrase. Unlikely, but not impossible.

He put the knife away at last and turned the horse over in his hands. "What if I mess up?"

"You will."

"What?"

He met her eyes, stunned rather than hurt by her response. There was nothing but kindness in her expression, or perhaps just the tiniest bit of amusement, a hint of a smile that was warm and not a bit mocking.

"You _will_ mess up. Quite a bit, I imagine. But you'll get the most important thing right."

"That being?"

She hesitated a moment, her brow creased. Some shadow settled in her eyes, and she looked distant, as if she were someplace else in mind. Robin waited, having guessed her answer - it was rather obvious - but still there was this overwhelming need to hear it from her. He wanted assurance, she was giving him exactly that. Not by coddling him, feeding him empty words. No. Instead, she was confirming some of his fears freely. And at the same time, oddly, quenching them.

"Love," she breathed eventually, her voice suddenly strained and her smile watery. There was a small shrug and a breathless chuckle, as if this were too much, or too cliche, or both.

And Robin found himself chuckling as well.

And speaking without thought again, but with all the more sincerity.

"You're so easy to talk to. It's- unfathomable to me."

She pulled back a little, sat up straighter, and averted her eyes. Had he said anything wrong?

"Well, I'm- glad I helped."

That smile right there, that was genuine, if a little pained. Robin could almost smell the gloom around her now, the same unexplained but distinct melancholy he'd been noticing lingering around her. She had every reason to be tense. There was a lot at stake what with the planned assault of the Dark Palace, and even more at stake for her - her very own heart.

His own heart felt somehow lighter now than it had in a long time, and he wanted to do the same for her.

"Your heart will be where it belongs soon enough, milady. I promise you, I will get it back. The Wretched Queen- what is it?"

"It's nothing," she licked her lip. "Only…don't call her that."

"Zelena, then." She gave a tiny nod, flickered a small smile, and if she minded the moniker, even their enemy's, so much, it wasn't that big a deal for him to give it up if it made such a difference to her. "We'll deal with her. We're more than we'd imagined at first. United. That has to count for something."

"I hope you're right."

Perhaps it was how small her voice had been, or how the smile actually died away instead of broadening, but Robin found himself reaching out to her, taking her hand in the same gesture she'd abandoned halfway not so long before. She stiffened at the contact but didn't fight it, so he squeezed her fingers. She relaxed, closed her eyes briefly and let out a breath. Then she pulled her hand from his grasp and stood.

"Good night, Robin."

"Good night, Dorothy."

They were both settled in their bedrolls by the time her voice reached him again.

"Regina," she said over her shoulder. "My name is Regina."


	28. Wicked

_*peers from between fingers* Hi, I'm back! Can we not talk about the ridiculously long time since the last update? Thank you so much for the messages, for your patience and interest - it's always wonderful to receive love from readers, especially despite such a humongous hiatus. Yes, I am finishing this story. In fact, here comes the action-packed penultimate chapter, to be followed by the grand (hopefully?) finale in two weeks – exactly two years from when the first chapter was published. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

><p>It was just the two of them again.<p>

Last time they'd seen Snow and David, the pair of them were ambling towards the castle walls to meet Snow's contact on the other side of the inconspicuous little door. Once they were out of sight, Regina took the lead, marching purposefully to the secret tunnel entrance with Robin in tow. Her lips twitched and, knowing he wouldn't see, she allowed herself a small chuckle - a little bitter perhaps, but a chuckle nonetheless. They'd made this journey once before, to rescue Roland from Zelena's clutches.

The rock was still there, unmoved and overgrown with moss. Robin raised the torch higher and surveyed the circle of surrounding forest. Regina flexed her fingers. Just because the rock was there didn't mean the tunnel would be as well, which only added to the nervous knot twisting in her stomach. The boulder shook as it rose from the ground, and very nearly toppled over.

_Get a grip_.

They couldn't afford faulty magic now. Regina planted her feet more firmly, breathed more deeply, scrunched up her face in concentration. Her emotions needed to be reined in, so her magic would flow steady and reliable. With her eyes closed, she strove to block out doubts over which brand of magic it was she was producing now, dark or light.

The tunnel was as dark and damp as she remembered it, and the traps much the same. Even the shifting shadows the torch was throwing reminded her of that other time she and Robin had passed through here. Soon the door to the crypt was looming before them, sturdy and, unsurprisingly, locked. Could Zelena have been foolish enough to have used the same magical protection Regina had, so sure that Regina was out of the picture forever? A single attempt, and the door yielded—Zelena had indeed relied on blood magic. Oh, the irony.

Robin moved to slip past her and take the lead now that they were in. Regina's stomach clenched as he brushed her arm. She barred his way.

"You've done enough," she blurted. "You don't need to do this. Your end of the bargain is fulfilled, you owe Rumplestiltskin nothing anymore." _Nor me_.

"That might be, but this isn't over. You're going in there to face this witch and I won't have you do it alone. Unless-" he sighed, "unless you don't trust a thief with your heart anymore. Which I would understand." Despite his words, he looked positively crestfallen.

"I-"

A mighty rattle echoed through the halls, muffled enough to know the source was several floors above them yet still loud enough to make them jump. Dozens of blades must have hit the marble floor of the audience chamber, shields and spears would have tumbled from the walls they'd been mounted on. Regina grinned. One last act of clumsiness—hopefully the last—and Charming had his sword back now. At this very moment, if Regina were to guess, Snow would be telling him about the other part of their task, the one they'd decided to keep from David until his courage was reclaimed. Retrieving Rumplestiltskin's brain should be, well, a no-brainer for them now.

But it would alert Zelena, which meant they needed to hurry. Reluctantly, Regina turned to Robin again.

"I do trust you. I just don't want you to come to any harm on account of m- this."

"The sentiment's mutual. I'm going in."

"In that case, you'll need to find the vault alone. Get the heart, and get to safety."

"And you?"

"I'll keep Zelena busy to let the three of you get away." She was unrelenting about this. If the plan didn't work, perhaps they at least would be able to escape Zelena's wrath. Robin was about to speak though, and there really was no time for this. "Don't argue."

He eyed her for a while, sighed, then nodded.

"I've got your heart."

"Please be careful." Her hand came up to his shoulder with the lightest of touches, lingering only a second before she snatched it away quickly lest she forget herself. It was best not to take liberties with touches.

But before she knew it, Robin reached for the hand guilty of this small trespass. Her fingers burnt as if they'd been licked by fire the moment he clasped them in his. Her heart picked up pace, hammering so hard she was certain they'd hear it any time soon, beating against whatever Zelena was keeping it in, leading them to it. Before her feverish thoughts had time to settle, Robin raised her hand to his lips. Their eyes locked just as he pressed a kiss to it, so light she could barely feel it but searing hot on her skin all the same.

"As milady commands," he said, and there it was: that mischievous glint in his eyes and the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was the Robin she knew, right there the entire time, waiting to come to the surface. Finally, her Robin!

No. No no no no no. Not hers. Not here.

He was still watching her, his eyes boring into hers with unrelenting focus, searching, searching…while her hand lay forgotten in his. A flash of awareness, and her heart leapt. Then it went out again, leaving only the scrutiny, the ceaseless searching. Her stomach dropped.

She needed to put an end to this. Now. No matter how much she longed to see if there was still a grain of feeling for her left in him despite the magic of the time warp, it wasn't for her to know. She'd seen the sparkle in his eyes, some sort of doubtful recognition, a curiosity, a connection he didn't understand. Whether it meant something or not, it was best left unexplored. He had his love, and discovering even the shred, the slightest stirring of feeling for another, would bring nothing but torture to him. Regina had no intention of tainting this fragile friendship they'd developed by allowing a forbidden element into it. It was enough that she'd had to fight her own feelings every minute of every day. For him, it would remain innocent and pure. Friendship, no more. And if they failed, if _she_ failed, he'd continue his life without a stain on his conscience or the love he bore his wife.

So she slipped away, her fingers brushing against his as they freed themselves effortlessly.

Not that her wretched heart wasn't cracking open somewhere.

"Good luck," he called after her as they hurried off in opposite directions.

* * *

><p>Not every trap had remained where Robin remembered it, but a number of new ones had been set up instead, each nastier than the first, more intricate, with the promise of a more gruesome death. He was making headway though, albeit slowly. Too slowly.<p>

Robin paid attention to every sound, smell, and sight. His senses were on high alert not only for the next obstacle, but also for any sign of how the others were getting on. A little reassurance would be nice, but there'd been nothing since that ominous clatter of arms. He wasn't too worried about Snow White and her shepherd, to tell the truth. No, it was Regina he yearned to hear from. They were supposed to brave the castle's many traps together, not separately, not with her putting herself in danger so soon and all by herself. But the best thing he could do was find her heart as fast as possible. Then he'd find a safe place for it.

And then he'd come back.

This overwhelming urge to stand alongside her was somewhat baffling. His honour demanded it, yes. And it was in everyone's interest to strip Zelena of her powers, no doubt. Yet Robin couldn't deny his involvement had become personal at some point. Friends were scarce in his life, all lost to death, but now he seemed to have gained one.

The air in front of him shimmered curiously. Robin stopped at once. On second look, the hall looked perfectly ordinary, but he trusted his senses enough to be sure he'd been right the first time. Something was lurking, some kind of magic. A strange scent filled his nostrils. If whatever this was was in the air itself, there was no way for Robin to bypass it, so he made a step forward. A tendril of smoke curled from beneath his feet and rose to the ceiling, joined by another one, and one more cloud, until columns of acrid blackness were swirling all around him. Robin clapped his hands over his ears as shrill cries tore through the air. He could see nothing now but smelled burning flesh, his throat full of smoke. He dropped to his knees and crawled on, coughing and sputtering while he felt his way forward.

It ended abruptly, like a snuffed candle. The air was clear, the corridor silent now even though his ears still rang with the wailing of people burning alive. Was this Zelena's warning to anyone trespassing? Or perhaps a reminder for Robin specifically?

If this mission succeeded, there would be no way for Zelena to take revenge. If it failed…well, they were all doomed anyway.

Robin moved on, a little shaky, a little choked up still, wondering if the others also had such horrors to face. Snow and David would be fine, there were two of them to keep each other grounded. Regina, though…

She seemed to have a soft spot for all of them—even for Zelena, curiously.

Regina, who'd have kept Robin out of this eventually. Whose fingers had trembled upon touch and whose voice had shaken a little as she'd bidden him to be careful.

Robin rounded a corner and was immediately swallowed by darkness. Except for a shimmery substance, bluish and eerie, much like the one around that knife frozen in mid-air. As he got closer, a form began to take shape in the faint glow: a rearing horse. No, not a horse—a unicorn. Black and motionless, with a gaping hole where the heart should be. Robin turned away and squeezed past the morbid spectacle. Another corner, and the light returned. Robin wiped the sweat off his brow. Zelena certainly had a wicked sense of humour.

Hadn't Regina said just that on one occasion?

Robin chuckled. The corridor rang with the unnaturally magnified sound. Everything had become sharper, actually. Pieces of the dream surfaced in his mind unprompted. Red-gloved hands placing a heart into a satchel…

Wait, no,that had never been part of his dreams. The satchel had always just been there. Red-gloved hands?

Robin was getting closer. He outsmarted a few classic traps and withstood several magical attacks. They all seemed to aim at unsettling him emotionally rather than physically harm—that was what the booby traps were there for. Thankfully, he knew their kind rather well. Still, he earned himself a thigh wound running into a sneaky spike and a sore shoulder where a boulder had hit from a murder hole. Robin felt more strained with every passed obstacle. His mind reeled with images of hearts and shimmery lights and billowing hair and fireballs, whispered words and ghosts of touches he had no memory of. With every inch he gained, he seemed to lose a bit of balance.

Then, at last, he reached the vault. The lock was one of the most complex he'd ever encountered. Sweat trickled down his face as he worked it, wary of the sickly sweet smell wafting from behind the solid wood. His head was growing heavier with each breath, so he tried to make them as scarce and as shallow as he dared. Still, by the time he picked the lock, his head had grown heavy and his judgement impaired. Images still flickered on and off in his mind, all in slow motion now.

By the time he stepped through the threshold, his heart felt raw and vulnerable, utterly exposed.

Nothing attacked him.

Still hazy, he set out along the walls, tracing the many boxes lined up on rows upon rows of shelves—a most unwise thing to do, as he'd surely realise if he weren't so very dopey. The layout had changed from the one he'd seen years before, that much he still recalled. What was he even doing here? Hadn't he learnt his lesson? Did he not realise the kind of disaster he was bringing down on the heads of innocent peasants with his reckless actions? Robin turned and staggered back to the door.

_Until we meet again_.

He was quite sure she'd never said such a thing to him, but it had most certainly been Regina's voice that shook him from his muddleheaded state now. That was why he was here. Her heart. He needed to retrieve her heart. It would be red with a streak of black here and there, and through that touch of darkness, it would shine beautifully. There was nothing rational about it, but he just knew. As if he'd seen her heart before. As if he'd held it before. Retrieved it before.

Robin paced the room, searching for a clue. He'd half-expected for the heart to be mounted on a pedestal in the very centre of the vault, which of course had been stupid. It'd be concealed, hidden from sight, and all the better protected for that. In one of these boxes, perhaps. But there was no time to pull them out one by one and look, and even then how would he know it from some other person's heart?

His own heart was thumping insistently, drumming in his ears. Dozens of others joined in, whispers rather than the wild racing of his own, but disturbing all the same. How would he hear hers in all this racket?

_You can't steal something that's been given to you._

Robin blinked and moved with more intent, across the room to the opposite shelf. This was the right one, he just knew it.

But there were still rows and rows of boxes to choose from, and strain his ears as he might, Regina's voice spoke to him no more. Resigned, he reached for a random box at eye-level. The moment he grabbed the knob, a sense of foreboding came upon him. Since he had no better leads, he removed the box from its place anyway. Holding it at arm's length, he raised the lid.

Nothing happened. No beast pounced at him, no curse devoured him, no witch appeared out of thin air, alerted by his ministrations. Robin peered into the box. It was empty but for a curious crack in the bottom.

The crack moved. Squinted back at him, actually, and before his brain caught up with what he was seeing, an eye was staring back at him, wide and unblinking.

_What sorcery is this?_

Robin braced himself for an attack - of what kind, he didn't know, but surely this was no harmless toy. The eye remained the same, however, never a blink, just trained at Robin's face.

That was it, wasn't it? He couldn't look away, couldn't break eye contact. Robin bid his eyelids to close, strained the muscles in his neck to turn away not because he expected for it to work but to confirm his suspicion.

"What do you want from me?"

The accursed thing kept staring back with its hypnotic gaze, and Robin's insides shifted. He was losing both time and footing.

This was one of the reasons they were supposed to tackle the vault together, Regina and him. Robin had no magic to counter the forces at play here. But she'd helped him before, from wherever she was now, even though it was beyond Robin's comprehension. Perhaps her presence would make itself known again.

"Regina?" Robin waited. For what? For her voice again, to speak something less cryptic this time, more practical. A set of directions, ideally.

Nothing.

But the eye, clear to the point of practically colourless until then, began to take on a sickly sheen. Golden? No; green. It seeped into the iris, the eye drinking it in hungrily like emerald ink spilled onto blotting-paper. But it didn't stop there. Soon the iris seemed to be overflowing, colour creeping into the pupil as well, violent green pushing out black, rushing in and drowning out everything but itself.

Robin was momentarily blinded by the transformed object. His eye twitched, pinched, burnt.

Then images swooped downon him, rained from every side, tumbled down and nailed him to the ground.

Some of them seemed random and disconnected: images of riches and luxury, powerful magic and - very disturbingly - the Dark One. And then, Regina. But not quite the Regina he'd come to know. A much younger Regina, combing her hair and conjuring a flame in her palm; Regina with shorter hair and peculiar garb, surrounded by people who looked oddly familiar and yet completely unknown to him, but all she seemed to care about was the boy in her embrace. Everything surreal, everything tinted green as though viewed through a piece of stained glass, a coloured lens. The images settled into Zelena's face, greener than everything else and nothing like the statuesque profile on the royal coins but instead screwed up in fury or hatred or anger, or a vitriolic mixture of all.

Other images he recognised as his own: glimpses of Marian and angry flashes of Nottingham and even, oddly, memories of a poor but content peasant family he'd been supplying with food. A family not torn asunder by Green Knights or deadly illness. How lucky they were!

Robin's insides twisted as the emotion burnt through him, branded him, and if he looked into a mirror now perhaps his own eyes would be green because that was how this worked, didn't it, that was what this monster was: envy.

The box seemed glued to his hands somehow, he couldn't fling it aside no matter how hard he tried. Desperate now to quench the storm within, he launched himself forward, sent his body crashing, arms first, into the shelves ahead.

The beams collapsed and came crashing down all around him in a wild cacophony of sound, raining splinters and worse. Robin's hands, free of the pestilential box at last, shot up to cover his head.

Once the world around him stilled again, it was no longer bathed in green or tarnished with envy. But no matter how rapidly he blinked, he couldn't rid himself of the now steady influx of images: Regina so transformed he hardly recognised her, all shrouded in darkness, cold and sharp-tongued and desperately unhappy; Regina hopeful and brighter and so much closer, so close he could almost card his fingers through the shoulder-length tresses of hair. And no sooner had Robin finished the thought than his image did just that. Except…_he_ hadn't. Ever.

He pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes.

At long last, it stopped.

Bruised and battered, with a splinter lodged in his thigh wound turning every step into torture, Robin rose and surveyed the wreckage. Despite the severe damage, most boxes remained sealed shut. They'd still need to be searched one by one if Robin were to find the heart without clues. But he felt anyything but clueless now.

Something was different, something had clicked - he was close. Perhaps that's what those last images had been trying to tell him. He found himself gripping his forearm with his left hand—hardly the strangest thing lately—and then he was clearing a path in the rubble, setting boxes aside, until he reached the one.

It was a box like every other, looked just the same, was covered in just as much dust and debris. Robin pried it open with utmost care—not out of trepidation this time at some lurking danger but because its contents were so valuable.

And there it was, glowing strong, red with a touch of black here and there, dark streaks that only made the brightness all the more brilliant.

His fingers twitched and prickled, wound around the living, beating heart, and lifted it gingerly from the box. It was warm, so warm, and seemed to stutter in his hold before it settled into a steady rhythm again, though a frantic one at that. Warmth clang to his fingers and spread further, bloomed in his chest, and his heart thrashed against his ribcage as if it, too, desired to join hers.

Nothing made sense in his head still, but it didn't matter anymore. The closer he'd come, the more her heart had seemed to speak to him, and now that it was lying in his palm…

He knew her.

The longer he held it, the truer it felt, the more _right_.

Now would be the time to tuck it safely under his arm and go, make his way out of the castle as instructed, let Regina fight the final battle.

That, however, was no longer an option.

* * *

><p>A creaking stair - that was all Regina had had to brave so far. The further she went, the more concerned she grew. This lack of resistance on Zelena's part didn't bode well at all. Regina sensed a trap, anticipated it every step of the way, and the longer it would be coming, the more on edge she would be, so she simply wished the fight on herself already. Her nerves would go then, her frustration would be unleashed, channelled through magic. Hopefully.<p>

She was right between the Charmings in the upper floor audience chamber and Robin down in the underground vault now. If she'd hoped to hear from them, catch the faintest sign of activity on either side, she'd be disappointed, for no such indication ever reached her. Perhaps that was all for the best. If they managed to accomplish the tasks by stealth, their escape route would be clear and Regina might even retain the advantage of the element of surprise. With luck, there would be no casualties.

_Fool_. Yes, it was a bold expectation. Yes, it was naive. Perhaps useless, even. This universe was either to be undone shortly, or would remain forever, in which case it would see horrors of such scale that a few dead guards would pale in comparison. Still, it would be preferable.

How easily Snow and Robin had killed. Not murdered—no, not in cold blood. But neither had it been mere self-defence. Not the way Snow's features had contorted and her eyes hardened as she'd slit the soldier's throat, and Robin's arrow had been tipped in something akin to revenge as it had made its course and buried itself in the fleeing knight's heart. It pained her to see them so—

What? Hardened? Cold?

_Changed_.

"In here, dearie."

Of course he was. Zelena's most powerful ally—or rather, her great weapon, for Rumplestiltskin was but a pawn of hers while she held the dagger. Of course she'd want to use him, set him against Regina as the one great obstacle barring her way to Zelena.

The throne room was shrouded in darkness. Regina's palm tingled with unkindled fire. As tempted as she was to light her way, it was clear that whatever was inside wouldn't harm her. Rumplestiltskin would. She wouldn't give him, or Zelena, the satisfaction of seeing her shrink away from something as mundane as the dark like some scared child. Her stride was brisk and echoed off the flagstones. The moment she entered, a burst of light blinded her temporarily: a torch flared up to each side with a roar, and the next one, and the next along the wall, until even the most remote corner was bathed in light.

Rumplestiltskin giggled in delight, uncrossed his legs and rose from the throne. Not the big, menacing one that used to be the king's and was now bedecked with emeralds the size of Regina's fist. The smaller one, the one that used to be Regina's. Memories clawed at her chest of the times she'd had to sit at Leopold's side, feeling small and insignificant as ever, the smile fixed to her lips so numb her face would hurt to rearrange into a relaxed, natural expression at the end of a long day.

Regina swallowed and tore her eyes from the wretched chair. She couldn't let herself be petrified by the past. The future was at stake.

"What a disappointingly cheap trick." Confidence trickled back into her heart at the jibe, slowly but steadily. This was familiar territory. "Times must be bad for you to have sunk so low."

"One likes to practise once in a while," Rumple shrugged, shambling on the raised platform, looking down at her - _always_ looking down on her, she thought with an unpleasant jolt, "and I admit there've been no worthy foes around. No foes at all, really. All of them subdued, none too eager to rebel anymore."

"You wanted me to come." It had been bothering her ever since Robin had mentioned the price Rumplestiltskin had set in exchange for whatever tonic he'd given him to stretch the remainder of Marian's life. How much did Rumple remember? Had he managed to retain some awareness of things past? He had, after all, secured himself special treatment under Regina's curse. "You _wanted_ me to come."

Rumple nodded, wiggled his fingers, fixed her with repulsive, bug-like eyes.

"And now I have to stop you. Direct orders, I'm afraid. Very clear instructions. No space to manoeuvre in."

"Because Zelena has the dagger." Regina could have made the dagger her priority, secured herself Rumple's allegiance. Her chances at success would have increased significantly with the Dark One at her command. It would have been too risky, too stupid to put people's lives at stake for though. She was certain Zelena was keeping it on herself at all times—Regina certainly would—and it wasn't an agent in the time warp magic anyway. They didn't need it to undo the spell.

"Is it the dagger you're after?" Rumple's pupils widened, shiny black and maniacal. His breath was hot on Regina's face and sickening with the stench of rotting teeth.

Regina, though she recoiled inwardly, stood her ground unflinching.

"No, and I think you know that. Otherwise why would you have tried to help me?"

He rested his chin on the back of his hand and pondered Regina's question. Up close, he looked more appalling than ever, and that was saying something. His vest was threadbare and the ornate cuffs of his shirt fringed, his gold-flecked skin displaying the same pallid squalor as his garb. The fall of the Dark One. It seemed he, much like the rest of the land, wasn't faring well under Zelena's rule.

"Why indeed?" he squinted eventually. "I wish I remembered. There's no one home though," he tapped his temple with a scaled finger, "and where else would my memory reside? It is no matter now, dearie. Let's get to business."

A lazy wave of the hand, and a suit of armour sprang to life in the far corner. It flexed its gauntleted arm, raised a spear, aimed, and released. Regina reacted instinctively and watched the rusty tip come to a halt just inches from her face and remain hanging there. _Rusty like my magic_. It wasn't supposed to get so close. Regina ducked as another spear rushed past her. The armour creaked and the animated suit made to throw again. New and new weapons would appear each time she magicked the last one away.

Rumple paced the width of the room with his hands behind his back, paying her absolutely no mind. The stupid imp wasn't even trying. He couldn't seriously expect this deplorable piece of rotting rubbish to end her. Regina was growing tired of this pointless little game. Deflecting the latest shaft, she sent a blast of energy straight at the breastplate. The armour crumbled to the ground, lifeless pieces scattering across the floor.

"Done playing, are we now?"

"I don't have time for games," she snapped.

In fact, she might just do. She had no way of knowing whether everyone else was safely out of the castle by now or not, so playing for time might not be a bad idea. But Zelena had been alerted of the security breach and would be on the lookout for her. For _them_. If the Charmings and Robin were still around, they'd more likely than not be facing consequences soon, unless Regina took care of Zelena first.

In the end, Regina didn't have much choice in the matter. Rumple was there, had been bored forever, and his eyes were transformed now, full of battle lust.

A magical battle, of course.

Enchantments criss-crossed the air. Some were aimed at each one's opponent, others at various objects they chose to utilise. Chandeliers shattered to the ground, sharp shards of glass sent dashing through the air only to be stopped by makeshift shields of golden plates and cutlery. Tapestries launched into air attacks, pelleting Regina with pins and needles and hanging nails. The heavy green runner slithered from under their feet, a thick giant of a serpent swallowing the woven air force.

"Nice touch, dearie!"

Regina warded off another onslaught, this time a gang of animated gargoyles, sending crushed stone flying in all directions.

"Stop toying with me!"

Even though every successful move returned a drop of confidence in her magic, her frustration only grew with each attack Rumple initiated. This wasn't his style. She'd expect this from Zelena maybe, but Rumple had never been one for such spectacles. With him, every physical attack was but a manifestation of some malicious tease, was aimed at some hidden flaw, crafted to injure where it would do most harm—your heart, your soul. No spear or blade could inflict as much pain as the twisted skill with which Rumple wielded psychology.

"Why, I thought we'd wait for your allies to join us. Figured you'd like to see them one last time before this unfortunate incident ends."

"Leave them out of this," Regina gritted her teeth. "They're not coming back here."

"You don't really believe that, now, do you? Or do they care so little about your fate?"

There it was: he was doing it now, playing her emotions like some morbid set of strings taut to the point of snapping.

"They're long gone, you cannot hurt them now."

"Oh, but I don't need to. _You_ already have, by dragging them into this."

Regina closed her eyes against his words.

_Story of my life—destroying what I love_.

"And what for?" Rumple went on without mercy. "To die at my hands, or the Wretched Queen's."

"Don't call her that."

"Mind you, it could have been avoided. Wanted criminals should know better than to break into royal palaces. Poor princess, to think she could have married and lived happily instead."

Regina scoffed. "With a despicable brute she doesn't love, and who will never love her?"

"True. She'd probably have done something stupid to seal her fate anyway. Run off with her _twue wove_, perhaps."

A bead of cold sweat rolled off Regina's brow and landed on the back of her hand. _Relax_. This wasn't personal. They weren't talking about her here, or her marriage to Leopold, or the thoughts, however brief, she'd had in the doorway of the tavern that night of escaping her misery and finding her happily ever after with the man with the lion tattoo. Rumple didn't know any of this, not here anyway. He knew nothing of Henry or Cora or Regina's own terrible past, couldn't use them against her now. Regina still had an advantage, she knew his style. Rumple only had the weapons she was equipping him with now. That was something, at least.

"The thief, though, has too many records already to hope for a fate other than—" He made a revolting gesture of a head being chopped off, and a morbid little sound to go with it. A wave of sickness overcame her at the very thought. Regina swallowed it back, felt the acidic taste of it burn her throat. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's a clever rascal, probably miles away by now with as much treasure as he could manage to carry. Pluck your brains, dearie. You don't honestly believe he'd resist the temptations of a royal treasury."

It stung irrationally, yet her heart leapt at the thought of Robin long gone. Safe. She wanted that for him, didn't she? With or without her heart, she wanted him to live.

Something must have shown, some of the emotion her heart was momentarily overflowing with must have surfaced to her face. Rumple drank her in hungrily, eyes narrowed and cheeks puffed out. He huffed out a chuckle.

"Ah! Did itty-bitty thiefie worm his way into your heart?"

"Stop it! Just stop." She shouldn't have given herself away so foolishly, but she had always found it hardest to suppress her rage at her most vulnerable. So to at least minimise the damage, she lashed right back at him. "I'd focus on your precious Belle if I were you."

It was a wild guess, a shot in the dark really, for she had no way of knowing whether Belle was even in the picture or, indeed, in what capacity. But Rumple's face fell, his features rearranged, and she knew then that it'd hit home. She had the advantage now, but what spell would be potent enough to neutralise the Dark One?

Before either of them could come up with a new torment or produce a game-changing piece of magic, a high-pitched wail echoed through the halls, rolled off the walls and hit her eardrums with such force her hands flew to her ears. The air was filled with wings and screeches as ugly beasts swarmed into the throne room.

A particularly nasty one descended on Regina, but she was already releasing a fireball.

And, like too many times before, she missed the agile beast. And missed again.

"Out of the way!"

An arrow whizzed past Regina's ear. Her stomach did a double-flip, even though the image in her mind was clearly wrong—the voice didn't match. Regina caught sight of Snow notching another arrow just as David bounded in, sword in hand, cutting and parrying with sets of hooked claws, pointed teeth, and crushing wings.

So much for a safe escape.

Regina yelped in pain and clutched her shoulder. Streaks of blood oozed from three angry tracks left by a particularly cunning simian. Not for long, though, as it had the misfortune of flying straight into the path of Charming's blade. Seconds later, its head was lolling from its neck, then rolling on the marble floor. Regina's skin tingled. She threw her arms out. A ball of purple hit the invisible protective shield, broke into dozens of rays that ricocheted off the walls. One of them managed to hit her from the side, singing her hair, scalding her wound. Regina hissed, released a sharp cry as she let fly her own spell in response.

Rumple warded it off easily.

A shiny, silver-coated surface at the back of the room caught her eye. Regina grinned and sent another inefficient ball of light at Rumple. This one was handled by a dismissive wave of his arm.

"You're losing your touch, dea-"

The air was knocked out of the imp as an invisible force swept him from the ground and threw him against the throne, leaving him lying crumpled like a life-sized rag doll. Regina glanced at the mirror. He should have seen it coming - he'd been, after all, the first to introduce her to the many uses a mirror could be put to besides reflecting images. Such as reflecting spells.

"He's stirring!" Snow yelled. As if Regina didn't have her own two eyes to see.

And of course he was. There wasn't much in the way of magic that could contain the Dark One, at least not for long. Perhaps a steady influx of jinxes would achieve something, but for every spell that hit he'd ward off one or two. Not enough.

His arm rose even as he was still in a heap on the throne. Regina was ready for him. Rumple smirked, cackled, let fly.

Not at Regina. At Snow.

"No!"

Snow rose into the air before the spell ever hit her. A choked cry, the kicking of feet, the beating of wings. Then, a pained screech. A severed hand landed at Regina's feet, clawed and hairy, and Snow rolled to the floor with a bloodied knife in hand.

"Snow! Behind you! Run!" David was almost beyond recognition now for all the sweat and gore covering him, but kept slashing at the beasts.

Snow rose, staggered, and broke into a graceless run.

Regina groaned. The idiot was headed straight towards Rumplestiltskin. The damn imp bared his blackened teeth in a beastly sneer.

"Watch out!"

But by the time the warning sank in, by the time Snow looked up and noticed, she was almost by the throne. Regina waited, her magic itching to be unleashed, ready for the moment Snow White would find the sense to get out of the way. And she tried, but the momentum she was in was too much. Her upper body jerked curiously, her feet tangled. She tripped. Regina watched, horrified, as Snow plummeted forward, straight towards Rumple's smug leer.

There was a brief commotion, a frantic struggle, and then—nothing.

"Snow!"

The sound of bone being crushed made Regina's stomach clench before she glimpsed David's sword hilt shattering the skull of the last flying bastard. They reached the heap that was Snow and Rumple at the same time.

"Snow!"

She stirred.

Grabbing her by an arm each, Regina and David pulled her to her feet.

The Dark One remained on the floor, encased in bonds of rippling air.

Regina picked up a tattered pouch.

"Where did you get this?"

"I've-" Snow panted, "had it forever." She paused, catching her breath. "It's supposed to be magical but it seemed a hoax. I've been keeping it for luck."

Fortuna simply never left Snow White's side, did she? Not in their universe and not in this one.

"Some luck you have. This is fairy dust. It's one of the most potent magical substances, and one of the only substances capable of containing a magical being."

"I- captured him?"

Regina nodded, shook her head. Only Snow could be so damn lucky that her clumsiness would bring her salvation. Well, this time at least it was something to be thankful for.

A nasty gash, possibly formed by many criss-crossing scratches, stretched across David's chest, shoulder to hip, like a ghastly red sash.

"Get him out of here," Regina said. "Take the sword and the brain, and go."

Snow opened her mouth to protest, an outpouring of nobleness imminent.

"There's no time for this, Snow. Go before it's too-"

"Late?"

The mocking voice from the midst of a puff of green smoke meant it was now exactly that - too late.

* * *

><p>"Welcome, little sister." Zelena sauntered towards the party: David now leaning heavily on Snow due to considerable blood loss, Snow gaping at her with a mix of absolute terror and pure hatred, and Regina with her mind working furiously on a plan to get those two out and reap the victory she'd come all the way here for. "Welcome home."<p>

"This was never my home, Zelena."

"Oh, you know the saying. Home is where the heart is. And yours?" Zelena stepped closer, close enough to spit the last words right into Regina's face. "Why, it's right here, dear."

Much like everyone else Regina had met, this realm had changed Zelena as well, and not in a good way. Most conspicuously, her skin wasn't green - at least not obviously so. Her complexion was almost the same shade Regina's had been in her Evil Queen days: white and pallid. Up close, where specks of cerussa paint—toxic, she now knew, and the very idea of slathering it all over her skin sickened her—clotted in the creases of Zelena's face, the green tint underneath was still discernible. Her hands were hidden from sight, covered by long gloves; Regina wondered if Zelena ever took them off. Her dress was something out of the Evil Queen's wardrobe.

But it was Zelena's eyes that made Regina's skin erupt in goosebumps. They lacked life. Even while they were trained on Zelena's mortal enemy, even while every ounce of her body was supposed to be threatening, her eyes were empty. They bore a maniacal glint—not unlike the Evil Queen's back in the day, Regina shuddered to remember. Like the greenness of the skin, so the paint strove to cover the dark circles under the drooping eyes.

Zelena blinked and, as if spurred by the realisation of what it was Regina was doing, turned away. The sight of Rumple in bondage at the foot of the throne seemed to cause her no discomfort whatsoever, quite the contrary: the corners of her mouth turned up, and she scoffed at the sight.

"Behold the fearsome Dark One, overpowered by a bunch of—well, you. Pathetic. Now, what do I do with you?"

"You let them go. Have it out with me."

"Nice try, sis. But no. Guards!"

A motley of Cyclopes and human soldiers— just where had they been during the monkey showdown?—marched in with much tumult. Two grabbed Snow and David each and dragged them away in the direction of Zelena's flicked wrist. One stationed himself behind Regina but didn't attempt to seize her.

"And how did you like living my life, Regina?" Zelena sauntered towards her, her face so perfectly disdainful Regina never believed it for a second. She knew the trick too well, had resorted to it herself many times in the past.

"The question is, did you find what you were looking for in mine?"

The ugly grimace didn't exactly improve Zelena's visage. Her face seemed to flash a more pronounced green under the thick layer of white paint.

"I was going to give you a chance, you know. But this hero act of yours is becoming so obnoxious, it makes me sick to be around. I'm afraid I must return to the original plan. Goodbye, _sis,_" she spat.

Regina was ready. Or was she? Her hands moved and there was a burst of magic, but was it the right kind? Light magic still didn't come easily to her, and despite Zelena's words she didn't feel particularly heroic. Snow and David had been detained and Robin, well, who even knew what horrific fate he'd met in the bowels of the castle. Light was supposed to feel warm, at least that's what she thought, but the gripping worries were chilling instead. Could this be a place to tap into light magic? So Regina's eyes closed in anticipation of a blow, first of magic, then of whatever surface it would propel her into.

Zelena shrieked. Regina opened her eyes just in time to see the combined forces of dark and light magic, forced together on impact and propelled sideways, hit the raised podium. The throne shattered into pieces, sending chunks of gold and precious stones flying.

"You bitch!"

It was Maine Street all over again, but far better matched. It was her recent battle with Rumple again, but less calculated and more ferocious. More down Regina's lane. A match of temperament; they were, after all, of the same blood. Curses flew as she and Zelena kept circling each other, wider and wider the longer Regina was holding her fight. A Cyclops launched in once in a while at first, a Green Knight here and there, but before Regina could deal with them, they'd all fall to the ground, clutching the hilt of a dagger or the shaft of an arrow sticking out from their crippling wounds. Snow and David, she assumed, though she hadn't seen them return, didn't stop to think how unlikely the duo were to have overpowered four guards in David's state.

A brief lull settled in after what seemed like hours. Her light magic _(Hers. Light. Unbelievable.) _should have been enough long ago, like the single blast of it had been enough at the barn, but somehow Zelena's was stronger here. Perhaps it was the accursed time warp, perhaps it was because she was the creator of this universe. Perhaps she still held Regina's heart and drew power from that. Perhaps Robin had failed…

No. No, she couldn't think such thoughts. The very idea made her insides squirm like leaden snakes coiling in her belly. Fear gripped her, and fear was an enemy that had to be vanquished before she could hope to defeat Zelena.

Her heart. Hers. How dare Zelena rob her of it? So maybe it wasn't as pristine as Snow's (which, in fact, wasn't that spotless either, not anymore), but it was _hers_, and Zelena had no claim to it, no right.

" I want my heart back, Zelena," Regina snarled. "All of it: the scars, the bruises, the darkness. I _will_ have it back."

Zelena acted fast. Regina countered the spell but instead of a blinding white, a familiar flash of purple shot out of her hands. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted up into the air and smashed against a pillar. Her head split into a million pieces. Perhaps it hadn't been the best of ideas, driving out fear with anger. Anger was dark. She should have known.

There was no time to recuperate before the next wave came, riding on a cackle so malicious It could only have been born out of an unshakable sense of victory. Regina braced herself for the impact.

It came, but not at all the way she'd expected. A rushing sound. An angry curse, as though something hadn't gone according to plan, even though Regina, still dizzy and numb, had done nothing whatsoever. A clank of armour as it smashed against the pillar, smashed against Regina, landed in a heap on the floor and in her lap.

The Green Knight's helmet rolled away.

_Robin_.

No, that couldn't be right. He shouldn't be here. How could he be here? But he was. He was, and blood was seeping from under the disjointed plates of green armour.

Regina forced her arms to move, pulled him close, looked him over frantically. He was pale, so very pale, and there was a pool of blood, ever growing, at their feet. But he smiled up at her anyway, blinked once: _it's done, your heart is safe_.

At what price?

"Why did you do that?"

Robin's hands found her arm, fisted a bunch of her shirt and held on.

"I—keep dreaming about you," he groaned, his breathing heavy. "You're in my dreams every night, looking for your heart, and it turns out I have it. Why?"

Regina shivered. So he had retained some of their past after all, some of what they'd felt for each other. A brief but invigorating jolt of joy swept through her.

Robin let go of her sleeve and gripped her arm instead. "You know why," he whispered.

"If this ends well," she says, though how could it, with him like this, "you'll know, too. I promise."

"You want a heart so much." Zelena had been watching, her face unreadable. Just watching. As if she knew this was the worst kind of torture that could be inflicted upon Regina, worse than any piece of magic. She probably did know. And had more to say. "You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable."

The world slowed down as Zelena worked up another deadly spell, her eyes trained on Robin's limp figure.

"First a servant, now a thief. Mother would be so proud. Really, Regina, how could someone with such lowly taste ever have become queen?"

Regina stood, fighting off nausea, and stepped in front of Robin.

"How sweet. Shielding him won't help, sis. So sorry." And for a split second, Zelena almost seemed it, too.

_But I love him_, choked Regina's heart. Just like it had once before, decades ago, as she'd clutched a different lifeless body to her.

Not again!

Perhaps if she were quick, and very very lucky, she could still save him.

Bile rose in her throat, the odious taste of sick. She paid it no mind. With her arms spread, Regina awaited the blast of magic designed to kill. And there it was now, closing in, its course true, true to Zelena's threat. Enough to end them both. End everything Regina'd built, everything she cared about, everything that could, maybe, lead to her happy ending.

She stopped it.

She wouldn't have been able to say how, since her feet could barely carry her, but just as the spell was about to hit, a shield materialised around them, an invisible protective capsule impervious to magic. Spells rained upon it, Zelena was screeching, showering them in malignant jinxes. The shield held, but only just. It was draining Regina's energy fast, feeding on it like a ravenous beast with a bottomless stomach. Stars sprang to life before Regina's eyes. Black spots hindered her vision, ever harder to blink back. Still she endured. No magic made it inside the protective bubble. The shockwaves, however, were a different matter, and even muffled by the shield the tremor was considerable. Growing.

Another viridescent explosion sent Regina to the ground. The landing was surprisingly soft, her fall cushioned by something warm and pliant. Wet. With blood. Despite the racket, Robin didn't stir. A dry sob rattled in her chest, squeezed at her throat, broke to the surface.

Robin's arrows lay scattered at his side, his bow out of reach. Regina picked up an arrow. Its feathers were ruffled and bent beyond repair. It would never fly straight.

It didn't need to.

Regina pushed herself to her feet, clutching the arrow like a lifeline. The hailstorm of curses had grown sparser recently. Perhaps Zelena was tired. Perhaps she thought she'd already won. Regina was the more exhausted of the two of them, light magic taking a heavier toll on her than its more familiar dark counterpart. Another spell, be it Zelena's or her own, and Regina might easily collapse.

The shield rippled and dissolved.

Regina raised her arm as if it weren't a flimsy arrow she was holding but a mighty dagger, and charged at Zelena. Snow and Charming had barged into the room at some point, were now shouting words Regina neither could nor cared to understand. The world was black, not only in patches now but completely, perfectly black, but she staggered on blindly with her hand raised, the arrow tip pointing downward. With a heaving breath, her vision cleared enough to make out the outline of Zelena, blurry but enough.

Zelena seemed too shocked by Regina's delirious rush to even move. She did scream, however, oh yes, and how, when Regina groped around, found what she was looking for, and ripped the emerald pendant from Zelena's neck. Zelena's hands came up over her head in a pitiful gesture of self-preservation just as Regina's arm flexed for the blow. It landed just as Rumple's binds had worn off.

Zelena was not its target.

The arrow plunged into the green stone of the pendant, split the gem clean, and ripped the world apart.


	29. Part IV: Second Chances

_So here we are. This is it. The end._

_Exactly two years after I posted the first chapter, here comes the finale. At last._

_Thank you for sticking with me on this ride, the biggest writing project I've undertaken to date. Thank you for the follows, favourites, and especially the reviews that so often made my day. At the off-chance that someone's been with me from the very beginning, congratulations on your gigantic patience, and humungous thanks for your support._

_I hope you enjoyed this journey, and that you find the last leg a worthy conclusion of it (heaven knows I've sweated plenty of tears and blood trying to do it justice:))._

_I'll be happy to hear from you either in my inbox or you can come find me on tumblr under bianka-bee._

_Onwards to the finish line it is! :)_

* * *

><p>It was a while before Regina even realised she was on her hands and knees. Sheer exhaustion made it near impossible to move her leaden limbs but she did manage to raise her head, blink back the dark circles inhibiting her vision, and take in her surroundings. The throne room was gone, the walls lined with stacks of hay instead of bejewelled coats of arms, packed dirt where there'd been marble floors.<p>

And a gaping hole in the ground.

Magic was pouring out of the hellish mouth, spilling out in clouds of green and lingering above ground. Something moved behind the smoky curtain, an oddly disfigured shape. For a brief moment her overtired brain drowned in images of winged beasts. Then one of the shapes uncurled, flexed, straightened its spine, and as the smoke settled, Regina made out a pair of jeans and a turtleneck. Modern garments.

The portal seethed and sizzled as it continued to regurgitate what it had once swallowed. The barn began to fill with people, men and women and children. Regina sat back on her heels, too weak and far too ancious to stand.

She waited.

As Mayor and as Queen, she knew many in her town by sight at least, but it wasn't until much later that the first truly familiar face appeared. Archie coughed and sputtered as he emerged from a plume of smoke. Others followed, disoriented at first, then frantically searching and, eventually, hugging each other vigorously. Ruby was there, and Granny, dropping her trusty crossbow unceremoniously to clutch her granddaughter to her. There came Snow now, all creased and dishevelled in her hospital gown, looking around with wild eyes. For her baby. For both of her children. Even as Regina started towards Snow, the floodgates of her own suppressed worries broke wide open.

_Henry_.

"Where is he?" Regina shouted through the tumult of the ever thickening crowd. Snow reached for her in a would-be calming gesture but her fingers dug into Regina's arm in a fitful, anxious cramp instead. The baby would be fine, would be with David. But Emma and Henry were never part of the time warp. Glinda had assured Regina they'd be unharmed, but her plan hadn't had the bastardisation of Zelena's spell factored in. As things stood, there was no knowing how the spell had affected them.

Regina slipped from Snow's reach and her pleading gaze into the thick of the masses, scanning faces, elbowing and, yes, even shoving people out of the way. She'd just saved their skins, surely they could take this much, and if they couldn't, she didn't give a damn.

The crowd rippled and threw her to the side. Something launched itself at her back, encircled her waist and pulled her backward, its grip like a vise.

But careful. Loving.

She didn't hear his shouted _Mom!_, didn't see his face, but she did feel his head fall against her shoulder and the tickle of his hair. _Henry_, she repeated over and over, _Henry, Henry, Henry_, probably just as unheard to him as his words had been to her. Once he realised why she was struggling ever so gently, he slackened his hold enough for her to turn and wrap him in a tight embrace. For once, Regina did not bother wiping her tears away.

By the time the room came back into view, the spacious barn threatened to bust at the seams. No one seemed to have enough presence of mind to head out into the open. Perhaps Regina should do something to organise them. The instinct was there, but her willingness to let go of Henry was beneath low. Thankfully, Doc chose that precise moment to begin to tap shoulders and herd people out. The rest of the dwarfs stood huddled by the wall, with one still missing. Leroy, no doubt—he would have been one of the first to the barn, ever eager for the latest news, and so since the portal seemed to be spitting them out in reverse order, the dwarfs would have to wait a while for their seventh brother.

But no one would have to wait longer than Regina.

If he'd—if Robin had—her mind even skipped the dreadful word _died_—in the other universe, would that make him—_dead—_here? Would the spell reversal undo any harm he'd come to under it? There was no telling.

Henry took her hand and squeezed. And didn't let go as they watched David climb out of the portal, a one-handed grip on a bundle the sight of which elicited a shrill cry from Snow. Emma had materialised from somewhere, grinned from amid the Charming family reunion when she caught Regina's eye. Regina managed a half-smile. Things were finally settling back to the way they should be…

But someone was still missing.

The smoke billowed again, thinned and hung in clusters over a dark form at the very edge of the portal. Regina stumbled forward on jittery legs.

"R—Robin?"

She never felt the impact as she threw herself over him, never registered the scrape of the rough floor against her skinned knees.

A deathly pallor clung to Robin's face. Regina ran a hand over his cheek, skimmed his temple, brushed his stubble. She drew a sharp breath when she came upon an angry bump on his nape—the helmet seemed to have done more harm than good. There was no sign of the green armour now, just the same pants and jacket he'd worn before Zelena's abomination of a spell. Copious amounts of dried blood stuck to his shirt. Regina's insides coiled with dread. The sound of tearing fabric reverberated in her ears as she felt around for the wound.

There was none.

She struggled to loosen the scarf around his neck, sought for the slightest hint of a pulse with clammy, jerky hands.

_Please be alive. Please._

She pressed down more, just a touch harder. There, right there, could that be—?

_Thump. Thump-thump._

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, had probably brimmed over a good while earlier, but none of that mattered. Not the sting of cold that bit with extra force where the tears had left salty tracks, not the muffled voices that registered only barely, not the intense cramping of her legs as she remained twisted on the floor with her fingers digging into Robin's shoulders.

He was alive!

She should heal him, maybe she could heal him, if she would only get a grip and do something useful instead of just breathing him in while releasing shuddering sobs into his shoulder. Her brain, in a voice entirely too faint to get through the turbulent emotions gripping her, knew any such attempt would most likely be futile anyway, what with the ever elusive nature of healing magic combined with Regina's utter exhaustion.

A hand rested on the small of her back. Regina froze. Whoever would attempt to console her now, to pry her away from him, would be in for a harsh rebuttal. But no such thing happened. No one was trying to pull her away, quite the contrary. The hand moved up and down her spine once, twice, slowly, with just enough pressure to soothe, just enough warmth to quell the shivers.

_Robin_.

She didn't look up, didn't dare look up just in case it wasn't true after all. So she kept her eyes shut, her nose buried in his neck, her arms tight around him.

Quiet. Waiting. Hoping.

Fingers weaved into her hair, tugged ever so gently, carded through the tresses again. She didn't need her name whispered into her ear _(his voice!)_ to know for certain. They held each other in silence because there was nothing to be said right now, nothing that needed saying. Just relief. And hope.

Someone was talking, however. Neither him not her, but it was so hard to make out the voice and even harder to focus on the words, and none of it even mattered half as much as his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath did. Fingers curled around her arm, someone pleaded _Regina_ and she only wanted to shake them off, did just that, but then someone else said _Mom_, and she'd never ever ignore _him_. She looked up at last, vaguely registered the Charmings standing over her and a person huddled mere steps away at the smoldering mouth of the portal…someone with flaming hair…but maybe that was just the lights.

Flashing red lights, and then hands were reaching and ripping him from her, again, and Regina reeled for a fight she wasn't fit to fight right now but try she would. And then she, too, was being ushered into the waiting ambulance, clutching Robin's hand as doctors and nurses did whatever it was they could do for him on the way to the hospital.

And it would all be alright because Robin was no longer unconscious, would not stop running his thumb over her knuckles, would not tear that blue-eyed gaze from her equally watery brown one.

* * *

><p>The sun was only just rising when Regina pulled up at the sheriff station. Exhausted but entirely too buzzed with emotions and nagging thoughts, she had no thought of sleep. Presumably, neither did Zelena. With Robin decidedly out of danger and lost to drug-induced slumber in a pristine recovery room, it was time for Regina to face her sister again.<p>

She couldn't help a smirk at the sight of Emma sprawled in the chair behind her desk, mouth agape and snoring. The sheriff didn't so much as stir at the sound of Regina's heels clacking. Well, at least someone had no trouble sleeping.

"Emma." Regina shook her by the shoulder.

Nothing. What if—?

Regina's eyes narrowed, sought out the indistinct form in the far corner of the cell. Much like Emma, Zelena did nothing whatsoever to acknowledge Regina's presence.

"Miss Swan!"

Emma jerked awake and looked around wildly, hand on her gun. Not that that would have helped had Regina had hostile intentions.

"Regina," Emma relaxed visibly, then frowned again. "Everything okay? How's Robin?"

"He'll be fine. They're keeping him in for observation because of the head injury but Whale," Regina grimaced, would have preferred someone more trustworthy to look after Robin, "says he'll most likely just sleep it off."

"I'd like some time with her."

"Right. I'll go grab some breakfast." Emma slipped into her jacket without further ado, then turned in the door. "David'll be in in about an hour."

"Thank you."

Regina looked around. The shutters didn't let much in in the way of light, only shafts of dawn peppered with dancing specks of dust. She placed a chair in front of the cell and sat facing Zelena, who still wasn't more than a silent, motionless shadow in the darkness of the jail.

"It seems I owe you an apology," Regina began and suppressed a smile when Zelena leaned forward at the unexpected words. "For a moment there, I thought that," she gestured towards the desk, which probably still had leftover drool on it judging by Emma's blissfully oblivious sleep during shift, "was your doing."

"I have no magic anymore," Zelena spat.

Regina's fingers closed around the broken emerald in her pocket.

"It was contained in the blasted pendant," Zelena confirmed the unvoiced suspicion, the wishful premise Regina had based that last desperate attempt to undo the spell on. "Every last bit of it. Isn't it marvellous? The only thing that ever made me special, that made me _somebody_, and I gave it up to cast a curse that brought me nothing in the end."

The heart of the thing you love most. Of course, Zelena had had to use something to cast the Dark Curse back in the Enchanted Forest, and the riddle had caused Regina many an hour of reflection. Whom could Zelena have loved enough? Herself, it now turned out, or rather a part of herself. Her magic was, had been, elemental. Until she'd given it away in exchange for a curse. She'd been lucky, and skilled, Regina had to concede, to have been able to retain her magic while it was still locked in the pendant. Once the pendant was destroyed, so was the time warp, and so was all of Zelena's magic.

"Your people hated me." Zelena's attempt at scorn came out the whine of a petulant child instead.

"My people?" Did she mean the Charmings? Regina's parents? Or—she shuddered at the very thought—Leopold?

"The peasants," Zelena spat. "The common folk. The ungrateful riff-raff. Did you know they called me the Wretched Queen? What a lovely pair we are: Wretched and Evil. Evil and Wicked."

A punch in the gut. That's what each moniker felt like, that's what sent Regina's hand to her belly in an oh so familiar gesture, arms wrapping around her torso. Evil and Wicked, indeed.

_No._

No, that wasn't all they were. Neither of them should be reduced to just a label, to have the rest of their stories, the rest of their persons, erased. Even despite the destruction, despite the terror, the images of which now floated back to the surface of her mind.

"You terrorised your people," Regina said. Not an accusation, not quite. A rebuke, perhaps. A call for self-awareness, most definitely. "You made them starve and burn and live like animals."

"You're one to talk."

"Perhaps I'm not." Really, who _was_ she to talk? A villain on the path of redemption, even though she'd never truly reach it. "I was many things in my day, Zelena," Regina sighed, "but at least I tried to rule well."

"Ah, I see. So you were a _good_ queen, then?"

"I tried to be," Regina said with a dull ache in her chest. Because she had, she really had, for a long time. Especially after Leopold's death, when the full weight of reign descended upon her shoulders and the actual state of the kingdom and the treasury was revealed. Leopold had been a fairly popular king, but at a dear price, and hadn't it been for Regina's harsh, largely unpopular, but necessary measures, things would not have picked up the way they had. "I wasn't set on ruining the kingdom, only Snow White. At least in the beginning."

"Did they love you for it?"

"No."

The silence stretched long, each of them lost in thought, each in their own separate world: Regina ever pensive, ever reassessing, and Zelena—who knew?

It wasn't until the muffled roar of the engine announced David's arrival that Zelena spoke again.

"Isn't it ironic, Regina? Even living your life, mine turned out wretched. Yours, on the other hand? Even starting out as me, you gained yourself a lover, a friend, allies."

Regina's heart was caught between soaring and sinking. Yes, in a manner of speaking, she had done all those things. And the great desire Zelena had chased all her life of stealing Regina's life for herself had turned to dust in Zelena's hands. Regina knew the feeling, and the sheer bitterness of it made rejoicing over her present victory impossible.

"We make our own choices, Zelena. Circumstances are a great, sometimes damning, factor… But if you continue to solely blame those—well, look what it gained you. Look what it gained the both of us."

"And look at you, all repentant. You make me sick, Regina." Zelena pulled the thin blanket tighter around her frame. "Leave me.

* * *

><p>Robin's third day in hospital was pure torture to him. The idleness was driving him crazy, yet Whale was refusing to release him. Regina, ever uneasy around the man since she'd learnt of his betrayal back in the Enchanted Forest, had swallowed her pride and asked Doc for a second opinion. Much to their chagrin, he, too, agreed that Robin's mild but lingering symptoms merited further medical attention.<p>

"I'd be just as well in your care," he groaned when a nurse wheeled in his lunch—a thin broth and cold pasta with some sorry excuse for sauce. "Better, in fact."

"You _are_ in my care," she reminded him as she dumped the food straight into the wastebasket, making a mental note to include improved hospital meal quality in her mayoral endeavours. Henry appeared just in time with a bowl of soup and warmed up lasagna Regina'd whipped up that morning, Roland in tow and balancing a bowl of jelly in each small hand.

Regina sat at Robin's side while he one-handedly (he wasn't exactly willing to relinquish the hold on her hand if he could help it, not that she was complaining)wolfed down the lasagna (at least his appetite was definitely back to normal) and munched on the jelly, most of which he eventually surrendered to Roland's puppy eyes. She groaned as Henry put on _Finding Nemo_ for the second time, allegedly for Roland's sake but she didn't miss the twinkle in her rapidly growing son's eyes. Robin pulled her close, snuggled into her side with his eyes shut. Too much television could make his symptoms worse, and he'd do anything to make sure his stay at Storybrooke General would remain as short as possible. But he'd keep casting her sideways glances, would keep forgetting himself and stare openly at her face while wearing _that_ look—and she'd always notice because, well, she couldn't tire of seeing him there right next to her, safe if not quite sound yet.

_That_ _look_ would remain with her even as she later washed Roland's fingers sticky with raspberry gelatin; would linger even as she tucked both boys in for the night; would be most prominent when she nestled under her covers, wondering what it would be like with him next to her. And smiling shamelessly because in a few nights, he might be—he _would_ be there next to her. _That_ _look_ would be the last thing she saw before she drifted off.

The love in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Whenever she wasn't bunked up at the hospital or with the boys, or perhaps having lunch with Snow (who'd have thought?), her feet would take her to the sheriff station.<p>

Slowly, painstakingly, Regina managed to wheedle more out of Zelena, pieced together the scraps of information until the Wretched Queen's story unravelled before her. Through her own experience, Regina saw past Zelena's sarcasm to the bitterness, past the anger to the injury, past the haughtiness to the misery. Sometimes words spilled freely, sometimes it was what remained left unsaid that revealed the most.

Their childhoods had been almost identical now, what with two sets of memories, real and fake, for each. Almost, but not quite. Zelena had embraced Cora's plans to make her queen, had drunk in all Cora attempted to teach her. Never questioned, never defied, never desired anything else. The rift came soon enough, however, once Cora expressed her strong disapproval of Zelena continuing her magical tuition with none other than her own teacher of old, Rumplestiltskin. Through the looking glass Cora went, and Zelena straight to the palace to claim the much coveted place of queen.

There'd been no Daniel to mourn, no light to slowly fade out of her under the succession of tragedies. No, Zelena embraced darkness head on, thrived on it. But she wasn't happy. Her tutor seemed to remember, or at least retain some consciousness of reality—enough to remain uninterested in his apprentice, never quite as thrilled by her potential as she'd have him be, never bestowing the kind of praise or fondness upon her that Zelena so badly craved in that life and this.

The Leopold of Zelena's world seemed remarkably unchanged, so much so that Regina fought the urge to flee the sheriff station on multiple occasions, reminded herself that the terrible memories Zelena's story roused were just that: memories. He'd met much the same fate, too, a fact Regina wasn't altogether certain was supposed to make her feel better or worse, only he died at Rumple's hand this time, under the influence of the Dark One's dagger.

Snow White was neglected, despised, and banished, only to be brought back once Zelena devised an even more atrocious fate for the princess: a marriage to prince James, the son of that cold, calculating bastard George. At which point Snow fled the castle to seek out her true love, David, and stumbled upon Regina.

"What about the kingdom?" Regina wondered. "What did they do to incur your wrath?"

"Why, Regina, the same thing they did to you. They never liked me. Yet they loved that pathetic little snowflake. I just punished them harder for it."

* * *

><p>"You're awfully quiet tonight, milady."<p>

Despite the heavy thoughts, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I went to see my sister again."

Robin waited, rubbing circles across her back as they lay huddled together on the narrow hospital bed. Regina closed her eyes and let herself melt into his touch.

"She—she's so—" What? A thousand words could follow, each of them true, yet none of them quite accurate. Bitter? Spiteful? Despondent? "—empty."

Yes, that was it, wasn't it? And wasn't that what the Dark Curse was supposed to do? Leave a hole in your heart you'd never be able to fill?

"You want to help her."

"Yes." Regina shifted closer, draped his arm over her, let out a deep breath. "But it's—It's hard. It took me years, decades…" She huffed in frustration. "I just don't know how."

She'd figure something out, though.

* * *

><p>"You're back."<p>

Was it just her or did Zelena actually sound vaguely—pleased?

Perhaps she was reading too much into this, perhaps she just wished it to be true.

When had it come to matter so much?

A long time ago, if she was being honest with herself. Zelena was all the family Regina had left—well, not really, that was no longer true, but she was the only blood relative she had left, and they shared a bond that was much more than blood. They had a past, things that they'd done and things that had been done to them, and that past would haunt them both. But Regina was so much closer to moving on—was already, _finally,_ moving on with her life. Zelena had so much further to go yet, had yet to make that first step. She needed to _want_ to make it.

"I don't feel like chit-chatting about my awful life today, so if that's what you had in mind, you might as well go."

Regina didn't move. "Not the past then. Let's talk about your future. What do you want?"

"I thought my many attempts to ruin your life would have made that clear." The venomous edge was entirely lost to the dejection Zelena's voice was laced with.

"No, that's just a means to an end. What do you really want? Not for me, not for anyone—for yourself."

Zelena gave her an odd, suspicious look, long and searching, then turned away without a word.

Regina waited.

At long last, when she was just about admitting defeat, Zelena spoke, her face still averted.

"I want…to forget."

Forget. So that was it. A fresh start. A blank page. A clean slate. Not unlike what Regina had procured for herself by means of the Dark Curse, and yet worlds apart. Because she'd kept her memories intact, always. The pain and suffering she'd have easily let go, had at various points in her life yearned to erase from her mind, but with the bad she'd have had to let the good go as well. The happy memories. Rare and precious flashes from her childhood and youth of moments when she was allowed to be young and free, memories of Daniel and later of Henry. No matter how brief or how tragic their outcome, she'd never been ready to part with those. That alone, and the fact that Zelena seemed to have no such thing to outweigh the bad, stirred within Regina a surge of searing pain on Zelena's behalf. Regina fought to clear all such evidence from her face, remembering too well how badly she'd respond to displays of pity.

"That could be arranged," she managed with practised calm.

"With a memory potion?" Zelena scoffed. "With my luck, someone falls in love with me just to kiss me and bring back my misery."

"Something more potent than a regular memory potion."

For the first time since Regina's visits, Zelena rose from the bed, stepped forward, and regarded her from between the bars. For the first time in a long time, there seemed to be a spark of life returned to her eyes. A question and a new kind of hunger, or hope, or both. It was at the same time heartening and unnerving, knowing the cause of Zelena's transformation.

"Just don't make a hasty decision," Regina added, and realised only too late how much more it resembled a plea than it did a warning.

Zelena didn't catch on, though, for once didn't mock Regina for her troubles. Her fingers curl around the bars, knuckles white, fingernails bitten down to the quick.

"What do I have to think back on with affection?"

Regina opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't have answer. She didn't have a single thing to offer, and for a moment she could almost have laughed at herself, for her stupid desire to make things better with empty encouragements when she had on so many occasions cursed Snow for trying to do just that for her. So instead of false rainbows, she offered a harsh, thorny path, the same one she was travelling.

"You could try to pick up the pieces and build yourself anew."

Zelena's enraptured expression melted away, her grip on the bars slackened, and she leaned against them heavily.

"I don't think that's possible."

Regina stepped closer, curled a hand around a cold iron bar just inches from where Zelena's was resting.

"Neither did I," she said softly.

"And now you do."

"Maybe." Yes. Yes, she did. As much as it still surprised her, she was finally allowing herself that. "But even the possibility is more than I'd once dared hope for. It might be the same for you, if you let it."

"Oh, and then what?" She leaned forward, pressed her face in between the bars, and cocked her head in derision: "You want us to be family?"

The receptive, approachable Zelena was gone again; the mask had gone back up. There would be no more talking to her now.

But that didn't mean Regina wouldn't try in the future. This was personal in a way she was not quite ready to admit, felt like a debt of sorts she owed to herself and to those gracious enough to have given Regina her (umpteenth) second chance. Perhaps she could help Zelena—no one was in a better position to do so, at any rate.

"Think about it," she said as she made sure the enchantments to keep all vengeful citizens from getting a hold of Zelena in her cell still held. "I'll be back."

The usual sarcastic send-off never came. Just a long, hard look, and a wordless nod.

It was a start.

* * *

><p>All the world had gathered at Granny's, and for once Regina felt every bit a part of that world.<p>

Their booth was somewhat crowded, but happily so. Wedged between Henry and Roland, Regina listened to their animated conversation. At the rate things were going and the level of enthusiasm Roland was responding with, she was already picturing herself on a search for Henry's outgrown Hulk costume for the littlest comics aficionado in the family. Baby Neal, her brand new godson, was gurgling happily in her arms. Emma and Hook had volunteered to pick up another round of drinks for the table. David relinquished the charming, chivalrous streak in favour of canoodling with his wife right there in Regina's very plain sight. But where she had once desired a Sleeping Curse to doctor the problem, she made do with an eyeroll this time. It was only when Robin chose that precise moment to reappear behind her with a greeting that sounded an awful lot like "love" and leaned in for a light kiss that she responded to without a second thought that Regina realised perhaps she had no right to even that eyeroll anymore. Her cheeks grew hot and her heart fluttered pleasantly.

Ruby worked her way to the table, balancing two trays of mostly empty glasses and a single plate that she placed into what little space was left in front of Regina.

"I don't think we ordered these."

"They're on the house. Granny insists."

Regina blinked. Granny was famous for remembering everyone's favourite orders, but Regina hadn't had this one here in ages. Yet the woman hadn't forgotten her passion for apple pancakes and had even gone to the trouble of making her a fresh batch on a hopelessly busy night.

Before she had time to respond, Ruby grinned knowingly and turned to elbow her way through the crowd again.

Regina repositioned Neal on her lap and prodded the pancakes with the fork. The toddler wiggled restlessly and grabbed at her hand. Regina reached for his bottle with a chuckle and bounced him on her knee a few times.

"It suits you," a voice rang over the crowd as its owner pushed through to the table.

Regina glanced Robin's way, but he was too preoccupied with Henry's commentary on the latest Marvel film (they might need to look for an adult-sized Hulk costume later to match Henry's old tiny one) to catch Tinkerbell's entirely inappropriate remark. The fairy slid into the booth, defying the very laws of physics by fitting into the incredibly small space. She said no more, but looked pointedly at Robin, then back at Regina again, with an unmistakable _I-told-you-so_ expression on her beaming face.

"I meant happiness," winked Tink. "But the baby looks good on you, too."

Happiness.

Was this-? Was she-?

"I need a minute," she muttered as she handed Neal over to a baffled Tink and fled from the diner.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Robin came looking for her, and for a moment Regina wished it were someone—anyone—else. Maybe even Snow full of concern and questions and well-meaning advice—just not Robin. She wasn't ready to face Robin just yet.<p>

But there he was, his light step ever closer to where she was sitting in a dark corner, the music and laughter from inside faint in her ears, and the smell of pine when he reached her made her mouth twitch and stomach clench.

"Regina?"

He pulled up a chair to join her after she gestured resignedly that it was fine for him to do so.

"What is it?" he prompted gently, and she gave a humourless laugh.

He was offering her this, love and support and understanding if she'd only let him, and she didn't think she could handle it. The yearning to have this, and the guilt of wanting such a thing in the first place. The fear of losing it, and the agonising thought that she deserved no better. Accepting and rejecting him seemed equally impossible.

"I'm a monster," she croaked at long last.

"Wh- What?"

"I am, and if this thing between us were to continue, you'd see it soon enough." That snapped him out of the initial shock, but Regina didn't wait to hear the reassurances he was clearly about to offer. Why prolong her agony? "You just don't see it now," she fought the hitch in her voice, the involuntary thought of _because you love me_ plunging a flaming knife through her thumping heart, "because you don't want to, but in Zelena's world, you could never- You said you couldn't forgive—"

He'd said he couldn't ever forgive such darkness, that he believed such vice irredeemable, and he might have been a different Robin then, so perhaps she wasn't being entirely fair here, but the fact of the matter remained. The flaws of ones you cared for were easy to overlook at first, but would become impossible to ignore in time. Hers were just too much to tolerate.

Her eyes burned as she stared at the smooth green table (even the stupid colour pained her right now, for it seemed she could avoid Robin's eyes but not a reminder of him even in a thing as mundane as furniture), until Robin snatched up her hand with an urgency that made her gasp in surprise, and pressed it to his heart.

"No. Regina, no. I was bitter and angry and hurting and Zelena, as bad as she was for the kingdom, was a convenient target for all that. I couldn't fight Marian's illness, but I could fight her. I could project all my darkest feeling on her."

"But you said-"

"And now I'm saying that the woman I know is the furthest thing from a monster. That she's left the past in the past, where it belongs. That her future is in her hands and hers alone, and she can make it anything she likes."

Every word he spoke was stressed by the beating of his heart, a forceful _thump thump_ against her palm as he grew increasingly desperate to make her see, to help her understand. And she was weak, so weak and desperate for those words to be true, for her to be deserving of this. And it dawned on her then, as her own heartbeat sped up into sync with his, that they were both too far gone.

"You say a lot," she objected weakly.

Robin saw then that he'd won, at least for now.

"Is that a complaint?" he feigned injury, succeeding once again to coax the stirrings of a smile onto her face. "If so, I can think of other uses to put my mouth to."

Oh, she didn't doubt _that_.

"Ones I will appreciate, I hope."

"Shall we try?"

Frantic still, Regina grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into a fierce kiss, forging her fear and insecurities into a singing passion that soon had the both of them panting. His hands came to rest on her cheeks, fingers weaving into her hair, cradling her face as he kissed her troubles away (as he would always try to do, either with words or touches or both), first with sensuous passes of tongue against tongue, then with soft, gentle pecks.

Even once they parted they didn't go far, foreheads ever touching in a gesture she'd come to cherish and seek comfort in. Her nerves calming with each passing moment, she breathed him in with relish.

Then he sent her heart racing again.

"I love you."

Her stomach dropped just as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, and for a wild moment she thought the two conflicting emotions, elation and dread, would tear her apart as they vied for dominance.

"What?" she faltered pathetically, biding her time.

But Robin had other ideas, misunderstood her intentions perhaps, for he wouldn't let her speak but continued with renewed fervour.

"And you don't get to tell me I'm wrong, or that I'm fooling myself about who you really are. I know of your past, but Regina, I literally held your heart in my hands. Several times. I've seen you with your son, and mine, and with people who'd once been your enemies but who are now anything but." He rubbed their noses together, then looked her square in the eye with so much feeling that tears sprang into them. "I love you, Regina."

She nodded once and bit her lip, offering no argument, searching for something to say in return. She knew what he wanted, wished she could return those words to him because the feeling _was_ mutual, and he deserved to hear, to know.

"I- I'm afraid," she whispered instead. "Things tend to fall apart around me—at least they always did before. And it's not that I don't _want_ to believe this could turn out well. It's just that that's not exactly my forte. I'm not good at—hope."

"Aren't you? Regina, you've already taken a leap of faith—at least three times in our history only."

And in three different realms: the Enchanted Forest first, then here in Storybrooke, and finally in Zelena's warped alternate universe. All three times, they'd found their way to each other. All those times she'd decided to take the plunge.

But there was something different about the here and now, about this quiet moment uninterrupted by monsters and curses.

"No oncoming doom this time."

"None."

"Robin…"

"How about we start with little things and see from there? A walk in the moonlight. A picnic by the fire. Ice-cream with the boys. Think about it?"

He was trying so hard—trying not to push her, but also not to lose her, and gods, he really _did_ love her. But for all his love, he wouldn't ask more of her than she was ready to give. And it was then, as he caressed her face with those oh-so-blue eyes and traced her jaw with gentle fingers, that she knew for sure.

She was done running.

"I don't need to. Think about it, I mean."

"You don't?"

"No. I want all those things." Cautious still: "We'll see from there. Is that good enough for you?"

If she had any doubts left as to whether she was making the right choice, they all disappeared the moment his face lit up.

"Plenty," he mumbled against her lips, and she chuckled into the kiss.

"Good," she grinned as she pulled away after a moment, much to his consternation. "But there's something else."

She thought of a fear-driven thief and a grief-stricken queen, of sons lost and found again, of hearts locked away and stolen nonetheless. Of missed chances and second chances, mistakes and amends and fresh starts, friends turned enemies and enemies turned friends. Of families and how they can be not one but many different things, and be none the worse for it. She thought of first meetings and an undeniable, unbreakable connection between soulmates no matter what realm they found themselves in.

Her voice wavered when she spoke the words, small yet so huge, but her heart leapt in triumph.

"I love you, too."

She'd never thought such things were real, or that they could be real for her ever again, not since she was a girl who'd lost so much—yet this was one of those incredibly cheesy moments, when his face beamed so much it lit up the night, and her heart and gut did all those sappy things you read about in cheap paperback novels (not that she'd ever admit to reading such garbage)—except they were true and delicious and _theirs_. Until—

"Papa! Regina! Hurry up or you'll miss the cake!" Then, the moment he spotted them in a tight embrace and an unmistakable lip-lock, Roland retreated back inside with a pronounced _eeew_ and the righteous disgust of a five-year-old.

They laughed as they sorted themselves out a little and, all flushed and giddy (she, Regina Mills, former Evil Queen, flushed and giddy from kisses), entered the diner just in time to catch Roland's loud complaining because _Papa and Regina were doing the kissy thing again_. Regina felt her cheeks flame at Tink's triumphant, Snow's elated, and Henry's half-embarrassed look—but there was a smile tucked at the corner of her son's mouth that made her relax instantly. She pulled Robin into their booth without meeting anyone's eye but also not letting go of his hand, and once they had a semblance of privacy, decorum be damned, planted one on him for good measure.

Just because she could.

This, right here, being surrounded by a roomful of love and acceptance, felt good, and safe, and _home_. With a little hope and a lot of work, she might get to hold on to it this time.

She was finally ready.

Because some things…some _people_ were simply worth taking a leap of faith for. Worth taking a leap into the dark _with_. These were her people now, her family, and whatever life had in store (and there was never a boring day in Storybrooke anymore), they would take on together.


End file.
